Drunken Lust
by Mynt Mint
Summary: Sam finds Puck needing help. So, naturally he helps. But can he can his smouldering feelings under control? Not when Puck keeps provoking them. Sam/Puck, possibly eventual slash. Terrible at summaries, my apology.
1. Smouldering Assistance

It was a Saturday, and Sam was driving down town at eleven. He had anticipated this night for quite some time: the copy of _Avatar: Special Edition Actors Cut_ was going to begin sale at midnight. He was going to start queuing early, scared the copies would be sold out. Not that many people made buying DVD's a priority on a Saturday night, but whatever. Better safe than sorry. He had practised his Na'vi so his words were fluent and grammatically correct – something he could never do with his Spanish classes, even if he had wanted to.

The traffic lights shone red and Sam slowed to a stop at the intersection. Drumming his fingers impatiently on his steering wheel, his wandering eyes lingered to the park adjacent to the road. He did a double take when he registered a still figure, nearly camouflaged by the unkempt grass. The dim light of the moon did no favours, but he could make out the unique hairstyle of the face down person: a levelled mohawk. And he had only ever seen one person in Lima who sported one.

He wanted to ignore the image and just stick to his goal, but he would be crushed with guilt if he ever found out it was Puck, and just let him lie unconscious on the street. In the end, Sam's conscience won out, and when the traffic lights shined green Sam hurriedly pulled his car over. He launched out his vehicle and knelt beside the figure. With shaking hands he rolled the man onto his back, fully prepared to bolt if it was just some shaved homeless man. But sure enough, it was Puck. However, that wasn't relief. It was the exact opposite. He may have looked like he was just dozing off in a drunken stupor before, but now that Sam had a clearer view he knew Puck was in a much worse state. His face was bruised and battered. His nose was crooked slightly, and some blood had crusted around his nostrils. How long had he been there? His bottom lip was cut, and Sam was certain if he smiled some of his teeth would be missing. On top of that, one of his eyes was black and he smelt strongly of sweat and alcohol. The only thing that mitigated Sam's fear was the slow rise and fall of Puck's chest.

_He's still breathing._ Sam let out a shaky sign, liberating his fears of finding his friend's dead body. But by looks of it Puck was dangerously injured. Sam was no doctor – hopefully a human could withstand such injuries without dying? Sam steeled his reserve, disarming negative thoughts, defiant to help Puck make a full recovery.

"Puck?" Sam shook the unconscious teen's arm gently, trying not to scare him. He shook harder when he was met with no response, and a snore escaped Puck's lips. Sam's eyes lit up as Puck lazily rubbed his eye with one hand.

"Wha-?" Was all Puck could manage before choking on the bile and blood in the back of his throat. Sam helped him to sit upright, and a few blood ridden coughs later Puck was conscious, but barely. His eyes fluttered intermittently, and his breathing was loud and slightly wheezy. Yet, Sam was thankful that all of his teeth were still in his mouth.

"Where... wher'm I?" Puck slurred. His voice was that of an innocent child, and Sam couldn't repress his smile, even with the accent of alcohol. "Why're you here?" He raised his eyes to Sam's. The blonde had never noticed how shiny Puck's eye were – brimming with hopeful curiosity, twinkling subtly in the moonlight.

"I was going to get Avatar but I found you here," Sam revealed mechanically. He mentally kicked himself, but Puck didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed to like it.

"That's cute!" He drawled, ending on a high note. His expression grew hazy and his head tilted slightly while still maintaining eye contact with his saviour. He bit his lip amorously before hiccupping. Sam blinked. Puck was so out of it. _He must be a flirty drunk._

"Come on – we need to get you to a hospital or something. I seriously though you were dead." Sam said, grabbing Puck's hand to help him off the ground. Instead, Puck looked at it in horror, as if it would lead him straight into the depths of hell.

"No. No hospital," he groaned weakly in protest, beginning to crabwalk away from Sam. He moved quickly, fear fuelling his speed, before his eyes rolled back and his limbs gave way to his weight. He sprawled in defeat, still mumbling protests.

"You sure can move for a drunk," Sam said lightly, amused. He walked over to his friend and heaved him off the ground, dusting him off. Puck's legs buckled, catching Sam by surprise. The blonde had to drag the bemused drunk to the passenger side of his vehicle, trying his best to shove him into the car without adding to his injuries. He buckled Puck's seatbelt and trudged to the driver's side. He was surprised at his lack of annoyance at missing the Avatar sale, but it seemed insignificant compared to Puck and his health. He wasn't even thinking about Avatar (which was very unusual); he just wanted Puck to be safe.

After double checking Puck was still safely in his seat, Sam started the engine. The sound triggered Puck, jolting him into a state of panic.

"No hospital. Can't," he pleaded, desperately tugging at the door handle. He was too drunk to notice the lock just inches from his hand, but Sam had no reason to point it out to him. The fact that it stayed shut made him whimper. _Whimper._ "Please, no hospital!" He was begging now, slumping against the door, trying to use all his weight to break it open. That childish tone from the drinking gave Sam mixed feelings of guilt and sympathy. With a loud sigh, Sam acquiesced.

"Fine," he said, making Puck cheer. He hit his head on the ceiling but still retained his enthusiasm. "But I'm taking you home. You could have a serious concussion or something." Now the joy was gone. "Okay, okay," Sam yielded again, not even bothering to argue. "I'll take you somewhere else." He pressed down on the gas pedal with more power than necessary, speeding down the street.

Puck clutched the hand rest, the shining streetlights making him dizzy. "Ugghh," he moaned. "I fink I'm gon' - urpp"

"Out the window!" Sam instructed, hastily pressing the window switch. Puck squeezed his head out the window before it was half open, vomiting onto the street. Sam blanched at the familiar sound, gripping onto the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. Puck kept his head out the window for a moment, enjoying how the cool night air viciously caressed his face.

"Ah, dat's better," he said thickly, returning his full person inside the vehicle.

The foul stench of Puck's vomit-scented breath nearly made Sam retch. He fished for a water bottle in the glove box, throwing it in Puck's lap. "Drink this," he ordered.

Puck accepted it with a large, open-mouthed smile, as if it was a token of affection. He brought the bottle to his lips and began to gargle the water, giggling at the sound. He spat it out the window before he started to choke, loudly burping to cease his bodily functions. The giggles still threatened to emerge, though, and he plastered a hand over his mouth to try and cease them.

Sam tried to distract Puck with a question that had been on the tip of his tongue since their encounter. He hadn't asked it yet, since Puck's health was more of a priority than frilly gossip, but now with only the humming of the engine it seemed fine to reveal it.

"How did you end up in the park?" He tried to ask it casually, but his desire for an answer was dotted through his words. Maybe not enough to be perceived through Puck's inebriation, though. At least Sam hoped not.

"Found _-hic-_ some of m' juvie buds. 'N' we fought _-hic-,_" Puck explained through hiccups. He paused, ruminating briefly. "'N' I fink I lost."

"That sucks." Sam grunted sympathetically. "Then why were you drunk?"

Puck's response was a deadpan. "Because it's a Sat'day night."

Sam can't think of a reply, but doesn't need to. He brings his car to a stop and pulls on the handbrake. "We're here," he announced.

Puck took one look out the window and began sulk miserably. "You lied." He crossed his arms in a wounded expression. His voice broke with frustration as he tried to not wail. "'M not getting out."

"Hey, come on," Sam soothed, patting Puck's thigh. "It's not so bad; it's just your house." To the 'bad' he was referring to, Sam did not know. But Puck wasn't paying that much instead, instead placing his hand over Sam's, and drawing it back to its place on his thigh. Puck smiled, invading Sam's personal space with his flirtatious countenance. The moment may have continued, but the disruptive bang of Puck's front door bursting open, only to shut once again, captured their attention.

Puck snaked his hand back. "Oh no," he whimpered. "No, no, no, no." Sam was surprised to see Puck reduced to such a state, cowering with consternation, trying to shrink below the window.

Sam was about to mollify Puck when he felt himself quieten in fear. Puck's dad was staggering towards the vehicle, a paper-bag-wrapped bottle swinging threateningly in his hand.

"Please," Puck begged, the panic and fear unable to be contained in his voice. "Just drive. He'll – he'll hurt me. He always does." Sam froze, letting Puck's words sink in. Even though he was drunk, his voice was earnest and credible. And his father's countenance could not be mistaken for paternal discipline. It was much more suited to alcoholic abuse. Coupled with the profane insults he was screaming, there was enough vindication for Sam to release the handbrake and speed away. Puck's Dad threw the bottle after them, but it only crashed onto the road, missing Sam's car by meters. As soon as the raging man became one with the landscape through the rear view mirror, the boys breathed easy.

"I guess it's to my house then," Sam sighed, mentally mapping the route he had to take. He began to dwell in his thoughts as Puck entertained himself with the electric window, letting it rise and fall against his face. Great. Sam didn't need this. Of course, he _wanted _it, in some twisted sort, but he didn't need it. He didn't need a drunken flirtatious stud, ready and willing to be taken advantage of, arriving at his empty house. Sam wasn't sure he could suppress his bubbling lust for the mohawked teen much longer. He had to focus on pure thoughts even now – somehow, most of Puck's sex appeal managed to seep through his bruised and bloodied lineaments.

Sam still harboured a small amount of resentment towards Finn, for both destroying his coming out plans and padlocking him securely inside the closet. Yes, Sam was gay. And he had planned to let McKinley know, using Kurt and their proposed duet as the push he so dearly needed. He knew he wasn't as brave as Kurt, but seeking some guidance and a perfectly tuned song could have helped Sam be true to he really was. Not romantically, of course. Sam had only thought of Kurt as a friend. Of course, they could have progressed into something more, but Finn had to wedge his foot in and mess with Kurt's head, inadvertently fucking up Sam's strategy in the process.

Sam cringed at the memory of Kurt breaking off the duet. It had been extremely frustrating. But he wasn't frustrated at Kurt – his anger was directed at Finn, and how he can't pass a Spanish test, yet is able to manipulate his step-brother with ill-placed subliminal homophobia. Kurt was made to believe he was using Sam, and the boy's pride just wouldn't have that. Sam scoffed. If only Kurt had realized it was reciprocal, and stood his ground with Finn, this affair probably wouldn't have started.

So instead of Kurt, Sam winds up with Quinn. That was okay, but it was icing on the cake when he found out she used to date Finn, and that he still has intimate feelings for her. It was perfect – he would sway her just to piss him off. It may have been a bit cruel to Quinn, but he honestly didn't think of that until it was too late to back out. He'd step up his game whenever Finn was within earshot; whispering sweet nothings into her ear in glee club, interlocking their fingers as they passed in the corridors, and sharing enthusiastic embraces at the end of football matches (particularly victories, which would result in a running hug, with a twirl and all). After all, they were both blonde, attractive, and talented singers. Ergo, it was meant to be. You know, if Sam wasn't gay and all.

This mean that Sam was stuck with his attractive-but-not-to-him girlfriend and their relationship built on falsities. But he couldn't bring himself to break up with her – she was the only thing contributing towards his straight persona. Sure, Sam accepted who he was in the least bit shameful, he just wasn't strong enough to go through the steps alone. Not again. He needed someone – not Kurt, who contradicted his effeminate nature with his unrelenting pride – but someone who matched his position; another closeted teen. The problem with that, though, was that he was living in Lima, Ohio. Nevertheless, that couldn't stop his foolish fantasies, which all started in him meeting a new friend in a moment of serendipity; reaching for the same piece of fruit at the greengrocers, both taking the same elevator alone, finding his attractive barista's number on his coffee cup at the Lima Bean. You name it, he'd dreamt it. And while these fictions started separately, they would all come full circle, having their friendship evolve to the point where they'd find out their sexualities were one and the same. Next was the secret romance, riskily sought after by a hasty kiss in a backlit movie theatre, where it would progress until they had the courage to announce their relationship to the world.

It was the perfect platform for a fairy-tale, which made Sam regret ever dreaming it up. It was incredibly unlikely that it would ever happen, and he was fully aware of that, but no matter how hard he tried to forget the fantasy, he couldn't. Even though it was nearly impossible, there was still the tiny shred of possibility that constantly tore at him, deceiving him into believing that something like that could still happen. And he believes it, still waiting, desperate for his fantasy to become reality.

It's just that waiting hurts. Not know when the waiting will end pains Sam immensely. He can imagine himself waiting until he's thirty, and by then it would probably be too late anyway. It started to rain, and Sam clicked on the windshield wipers as droplets hit the car. Puck was now exposing himself to the downpour every time he clicked the window down, but in his inebriated state he didn't seem to notice or care. That was another thing Sam had to worry about: Puck. He had no other choice but to hide his feelings. Puck was straight, and there was plenty of evidence to support that, but Sam couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was flirting with him ever since they'd met.

"_How many tennis balls can you fit in your mouth?"_

Not to mention the more than platonic looks they shared during his first audition. And now he could add affection and brief hand holding to the list, but those were probably prompted by the alcohol. So far, Sam had managed to persist through the teasing torture that was Noah Puckerman. He focused on the spitting rain instead, gripping the steering wheel with so much force his knuckles were white. Right now he had to shove his feelings aside and convince himself he was doing this for a friend in need, not the object of his unrequited affections.

He'd been strong this whole time, not flushing when Puck had called him cute, not giggling when Puck locked their eyes, not shying away when Puck had grasped his hand, and certainly not mashing their faces together like his burning, bubbling lust was telling him to.

_Do it,_ something that was clearly not his conscious told him, _it'll feel great, and he's drunk. He won't remember a thing. Hell, he'll probably like it._

Sam locked his jaw in an effort to dissipate his thoughts. That was wrong – he couldn't take advantage of a friend. Especially one in a state like Puck's. He would just help out a friend, and then that would be the end of story. Sam concentrated more on the here and now as he pulled into his street. The rain had stopped, and apart from the squelching friction of Puck's cheek against his window, the car ride was completely silent.

"We're here," Sam announced, pulling into the driveway. Puck's attention was still occupied by the window, though, and he didn't notice. Sam watched. It was amazing how the simple sliding of his face, then the jerk of lowering the window too far, was enough for him to laugh babyishly. The blonde shook away his thoughts as he turned off the engine. Puck stayed, leaning against the window expectantly, pushing into it harder when it didn't move. Sam jumped out the car and walked around to the passenger door, opening it. He must have been concentrating too hard on thinking unsexy thoughts, or else he might have foreseen Puck tipping out the vehicle.

"The hell?" He said roughly as Puck fell on him. He hastily jabbed the seatbelt ejector, only for Puck to fall further, arms enclosing Sam in a hug. Sam quietly admitted to himself that he liked the feeling; being surrounded by a part of Puck everywhere. He was kind of glad Puck wasn't in a rush to release his grip. Puck managed to get on his own feet, but had somehow maintained the hug, which was now awkwardly threaded through Sam's arms. Blushing slightly, the blonde retracted himself from the embrace.

"I think there's a first aid kit inside," he blurted, trying to focus his attention on healing Puck a little. He motioned for his friend to follow him, but he staggered (in a way reminiscent of his father), and Sam had to place an arm over his shoulder and aide him up the front steps. He took fortifying breaths as Puck lightly massaged his shoulder for some godforsaken reason. He shuddered at the rubbing motion, willing for blood not to pool downwards. Puck's hand slid down Sam as he obliviously looked for the house keys.

"It's only me tonight," Sam explained, still fishing for his keys, "the family's gone to visit Tennes- haha, _hey!_ Stop it!" Sam giggled, pulling Puck's hand away from under his ribs. The drunk teen was probing the area with a vivid curiosity, which gave Sam the oddest visceral feelings.

"Aw," Puck drawled, "Sammy's a li'l tickly." He snaked his hand out from around Sam and placed it on his abs, pressing down. "And _sexy!_" he gasped, with more exclamation than needed.

Sam protested with a meek laugh (why the surprised tone?). The effort of keeping his smouldering emotions under control had him vibrating at Puck's touch, but he was still determined to stand his ground. Besides, he could just jerk off later. "You're a touchy drunk," was all he could think of to reply. He grinned at Puck's gazing smile. From his place resting against the wall, Puck watched as Sam unlocked the door. Sam could feel the gaze burning into him, and he cautiously turned, looking up to meet it. He did this partly out of hope Puck would withdraw on a reciprocated gaze, but also just to know how it felt to share a loving, intimate gaze, even for just the briefest of moments. Just so he could memorise the specks of green in hazel eyes, and learn the details from a more personal perspective, so his daydreams could have pinpricks from reality. Falling into a cliché stereotype, Sam lost himself in the moment, mouth slightly ajar, dragging the glance into a full blown gawk, which Puck ended by seductively raising his eyebrows. This allowed Sam to twitch and regain his senses, painfully aware of how head over heels he had been.

Even though it was thoroughly damaged, the amusement on Puck's face was clear. Sam felt as if Puck had stared straight past his eyes and into his soul, the current silence suggesting that Puck had learnt his secrets and desire.

_Damn, he can pull moves, sober or not_, Sam thought peevishly. This was only going to make things so much harder, in more ways than one. Sam walked ahead of Puck, leaving him to use the house walls for stability.

"In here," Sam called, turning into the laundry. He opened the cabinet next to a hamper of dirty clothes to receive a first aid kit. Puck didn't respond, but his puerile giggling was heard from two rooms over, and Sam knew what room he had found. He raced into his bedroom to find Puck admiring the posters on his wall.

"Hehehe," Puck giggled, collapsing onto the bed. "They're all –hic- blue people."

"Shut up," Sam retorted quickly, wasting no time in heaving Puck off the bed and pushing him into the laundry. He tried to hide the flush in his cheeks as Puck smiled lazily at his reduced legwork. "Sit here," he ordered, pointing to the washing machine. Puck obeyed in silence, pouting at the change in tone. He kicked his legs nervously, fidgeting with his hands. Sam retrieved a face towel and soaked it in water, wiping Puck's face clean of dirt and dry blood.

"I'd let you do this yourself, but you'd probably cause more harm than good," he explained between scrubbing Puck's face, which was begrudgingly scrunched. "Now, this may hurt a little," Sam warned, dripping some antiseptic onto a different cloth. This time, he gingerly dabbed at the cuts, faltering when Puck hissed to cope with the pain. He felt Puck's face tense as the last of the open wounds were coated, and sighed. "I still think the hospital is the best option," Sam said brusquely. He had no clue why he wasn't driving Puck there, whether he liked it or not, but for some reason the teen was intent to avoid the place at all costs.

"Nu-uh," Puck replied, swinging his head left and right. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Can't."

"Well, why not?"

Puck paused, and stopped kicking his legs. "Cause- cause these aren't from m' juvie buds," he confessed. His eyes were glued to his now still feet.

"What?"

"Pa's – Pa's back again."

"Again?" Sam pressed. He nearly felt guilty about persisting into Puck's personal affairs, but the poor guy looked so alone – he was probably dying to confide in someone. Knowing Puck, his pride would have corked the bottle of his 'feminine' emotions, but that didn't seem to be an issue in his intoxicated state. In fact, coherent with Sam's prior premonition, he seemed almost relieved by it.

"He always comes back," Puck revealed bitterly. "Once a month, -hic- at least. Dead drunk and ready to hand me a bashing – hic." He looked up, pleading. "No one can find out. Please – _please_ don't tell anyone, -hic- Sammy?" Puck forced prolonged eye contact again, and Sam could see nothing but complete honesty and a slight fear of judgement. It was the first set of sentences that wasn't slurred (though it was still intermissioned by hiccups). Sam took it as a sign of sincerity. He gazed over Puck's face once more. The wounds seemed worse now – not physically, but knowing that someone could to this to their own child would have made a lot more scars underneath skin. Sam's relationship with his father was good, and he couldn't possibly imagine how fractured it would have to get for him to be in Puck's place. He swallowed heavily, not knowing his next move. Telling someone would help, indefinitely, but at what price for Puck? It was his objective to let it remain as his one pitiful secret.

"Sure, I won't tell." Sam smiled guardedly, exhaling through his nostrils. Their eyes were silently exchanging words, words of trust and understanding. And not of judgement, for which Puck was incredibly grateful for. There was another brief pause, and Puck relaxed, which Sam hadn't seen him do at all that night. His shoulders shrunk, and he took a deep exhale. He was safe, and he knew that, and it allowed him to let his guard down a little.

Unfortunately for Sam, he mirrored the body movement a little too forwardly, and the second Puck noticed he jumped off the washing machine and darted out of the room with surprising agility.

"Shit," Sam breathed, caught by surprise. His brain was clouded, still thinking about how he was just having a total moment with Puck.

_Come on,_ Sam thought to himself, his craving get the better of him. _You have to admit that wasn't a look that friends give each other. It was the one potential lovers share while one cleans the others dirt-ridden wounds and the other shyly confesses domestic abuse._ His countenance deadpanned as he heard himself think. _Well now that didn't seem desperate at all, did it?_ That was Sam's common sense, logically tearing away Sam's hope as he needed it to. _You're also forgetting the idiot's drunk and probably tried the same moves on every person he met before collapsing in the park. It would explain why the hell he's here, of all places. _Sam's subconscious stood on the offensive, firing insults to give Sam some thinking room.

_Don't get upset, Sam, you know no good can come out of this._ Sam's subconscious was quickly advancing through undertones: first angry and explanative, and now to pity, and it was working. _He's a stud and sleeps with people as if his dick is gonna fall off the next day. Even if you did have a shot, it's not like he'd keep you._ That was the final nail in the coffin, and Sam looked down miserably, knowing he was right. He had no chance with Puck. A drunken one night stand was not what he wanted: he had too much dignity for that.

Sam exhaled, all his hopes leaving with his breath. He walked out of the laundry and followed the sounds of heavy breathing to find Puck. He was still going to help the poor bloke – he was just going to detach all feeling so the pain would lessen. That sounded about right. The teen in question was in the living, sucking on a bottle of beer as if it was liquid gold. He was sitting on the sofa, legs sprawled invitingly. Despite the airtight lock his lips had around the neck of the bottle, Puck's shirt was absolutely drenched in the fluid.

"God, will you _stop drinking_?" Sam asked in exasperation, angrily tearing the bottle away from Puck and sitting on the couch opposite him.

"But it _heeelps_," he whined. Now that his hands were free, he seemed to notice his saturated top. "Eugh, -hic-, sticky," he said to it.

Sam began to scold him, but was lost mid-sentence as Puck hoisted his shirt over his shoulder, dropping it beside him to rub his hands over his exposed chest. "You really shouldn't drink… so… mu…" Sam's jaw was left hanging as Puck failed to knead the stickiness from his chest.

"Tha's betta," Puck marvelled, not noticing Sam subtly cross his legs. "Why's your mouth open?"

"Hm? Oh, uh, no-no reason," Sam choked in reply, his cheeks flushed. "Where did you get the beer?"

"Fridge," Puck replied smugly, raising his well-defined arms to rest behind his head. "I can sniff the stuff out from. –hic-, anywhere."

"Uhhh…. You sure got a lot of it on your shirt." Sam scratched the nape of his neck, unable to help but notice Puck's torso was undamaged, looking fresh and undamaged in comparison to his face. Not that his face wasn't attractive; Sam still wanted to jump the kid, bruises or no bruises.

"I –hic- dropped the first," Puck revealed thickly, waving dismissively at a discarded beer bottle on the floor. It had left a pool on the rug, and Sam probably would have lost it if he was listening. But he was entranced by Puck's appearance.

After careful consideration, Sam concluded that the cuts somehow made Puck look hotter. They were like war scars, proudly on display after battle. And, God, pool cleaning did great favours in giving his body one hell of a caramel tan. He looked so perfect, as if God himself had carved him from marble. Everything about Puck screamed stud: the firm Mohawk, the battle scars, the drinking, the body-

_How's operation 'No Emotion' coming along?_ His thoughts blindsided him with a sneer. He had been lost in his thoughts again, staring absently at… _Puck's nipple ring._ Great. That wasn't suss at all, especially since Puck himself had noticed.

"Dude," Puck said seriously. Sam licked his lips and gulped down a breath before nodded. Puck beckoned him to lean forward, and they craned closer to each other. Sam could feel Puck's bated breath as he spoke with satisfaction. "It's hot, isn't it?" The serious tone was gone, catching Sam off guard. He opened and closed his mouth, like a fish, his wordless sounds of endless amusement to Puck. Sam could only wonder if the guy knew how much he was tempting him by sitting half naked and slightly sticky on his couch.

"You can touch it if you want," Puck proposed drunkenly, biting his lip. He had his flirty eyes on, and his smile was mischievous. "Feels like _ice."_ He hissed seductively, tugging on the ring itself. Sam struggled with his multiple twitches, and his legs were now crossed tighter than ever before. Sam's attempts at controlling himself were a major turn on for Puck. He viewed it as a challenge – and he had no doubt he could win the boy over in the end. To urge the smouldering emotions into revealing themselves, to result in fierce, sweaty sex was pretty much all he wanted.

"Really?" Sam said hopefully, looking up before realizing what he was doing. He blinked owlishly. "Wait, _what?_ Um, no thanks." He swore under his breath for being so foolish.

Puck ravished in watching, letting out a low, content sigh. He enjoyed this, for some reason. He had convinced himself he wasn't doing anything immoral – after all, it was fairly obvious the blond wanted it. He was just trying extremely hard not to cave into his feelings for some reason. But he would in the end, because Puck wanted him to do just that.

"Do ya know wha' would make me feel better?" Puck asked. Sam shrugged. "A song." He leaned in the direction of the stereo in a disorderly fashion, smashing the buttons with his sticky fingers. Sam pulled a face as residue was left on the knob of the volume. "You should sing t'me, -hic-. It makes me feel good." Puck relaxed back into his seat, batting his eyelashes as a song familiar to both of them permeated the atmosphere. As soon as Sam starting singing Puck jumped from his seat to be next to him, looking on with anticipation. Sam was painfully aware of the fixed gaze.

"_In this room of darkness I ain't undercover,  
>That won't stop my prowess rubbing off on to another.<br>Elevating higher as my body's moving lower,  
>Now I've reached my element you better move over, ohhh."<em>

Sam hoped the last line would give Puck a clue, but he only interpreted it as a lyric, not a suggestion. Sam felt like he had no choice but to return the eye contact, and Puck's eyes were searching without direction.

_But he doesn't he blocks my way,_" Puck sang, nudging Sam with his shoulder. Sam allowed himself a giggle as he realized what Puck was doing. Acting out the lyrics. How cute. Somehow, the elevated blood to alcohol content had no effect on Puck's pitch or voice. It was solidly professional, and Sam stared at Puck's mouth, watching his lips shape the words. He continued singing from there, but with timely interjections from his duet partner.

"_I try to push past-"_

"_But he wants to play."_

"_So I sip his drink-"_

"_As I hold his gaze, ooh!" _Puck raised a suggestive eyebrow, but Sam still didn't get it. Exasperated, he pressed the stereo off with a balled fist. He had begun to sober up now, enough so he was able to speak without intermittent hiccups, but not enough to have a crisp lucidity. It was probably what helped him in the end.

"What's your game, Evans?" he inquired. Sam jumped slightly at the direct address.

"Wha-?"

"I've been dropping hints all night. I know you want me. What are you so afraid of?"

Sam looked like a deer in headlights. He stared at his sneakers, spluttering nonsense as he picked at a thread on his jumper's cuffs. He looked intensely distressed, and Puck was getting worried. He did the only thing that usually worked, and cupped Sam's cheeks in his hands, bringing him in for a sloppy kiss. Sam's berry flavoured Chap Stick flavoured the kiss more than Puck's booze. Puck could feel how incredibly tense and stone Sam was being, so he soothed his thumbs into the boy's cheeks. He relaxed a little, lips puckering but not opening.

"Relax, kid," Puck said, breaking them apart. "I want you." The look of abashed guilt on Sam's face lessened the second time Puck leaned in. This time, Sam was edged on by unrestrained, lust fuelled thoughts. He returned with passion, smashing their lips together with hunger. Puck was taken aback only for a second, before grinning into the kiss and dragging his hands through Sam's hair. He loved the roughness on both sides, something he had never experienced before. Sam opened him mouth, granting Puck's tongue access through his luscious lips. Puck quickly withdrew, tugging Sam's hair and licking up his neck. Sam moaned in appreciation, raking his hands along Puck's back, relishing the contact of the firm muscles.

Puck's tongue had traced the full circumference of Sam's lips once more before he pulled back. "You want me too," he teased, in between gravelly breaths.

"A little," Sam admitted submissively. It was a bit hard to deny when his nails were digging at Puck's lower back. All his prior hesitations quickly dissipated as Puck rubbed all the way up his thigh.

"Then come get me," Puck ordered. And with that, Sam wasted no time in straddling the boy, pushing himself against Puck's sticky chest, desperate for the contact he convinced himself he would never receive.


	2. The Aftermath

When Sam woke up the next morning, his joints were incredibly tired. It seemed that eight hours of sleep had actually drained him of energy, instead of restoring it. Even though his eyes were closed, he could feel the sunlight piercing into the room from a crack in the curtains. He kept his eyes shut, and waited for the motivation to move to ebb into his body. Sam dug his head back into what should have been his pillow – but it wasn't. Instead of just opening his eyes, he was a slave to his languidity and gingerly prodded the surface with a heavy finger. It felt.. velvety. He sprawled his hand over it, kneading it with his fingers until he hit something cold. He drew his hand back, but quickly replaced it back over the object. It was… small and round. A ring? But it was missing an ear. Sam tugged it softly, triggering a moan from somewhere above him.

"God, I have _the _biggest hangover," Puck sighed. Sam's eyes opened wide as he felt a calloused hand ruffle his hair. "But last night was still great." He jolted upright, swallowing heavily. He was in his bed. With Puck. He slowly gazed down, realizing his top half was naked. He awkwardly pressed the sheets down around his waist - he was fairly confident he wasn't wearing anything at all. Besides, the messy pile of clothing at the foot of his bed, which was too much for just one person, could have told him the same thing. His head shook frantically, but Puck was too smugly content to notice. Sam's breathing quickened. He wasn't – he didn't –_holy fuck_, he did.

But _how?_ He'd put up so many mental resistances that the actuality of being found in the same bed with Puck was embarrassing. But somehow, Sam had given in to Puck's great sweet-talking, and if the blissful throbbing from his lowers was an indication to anything, it was indeed great.

"Did we… you know…?" Sam felt stupid for asking, because he was pretty sure he knew the answer, but he had too anyway. Maybe there's an alternative explanation he wasn't thinking of that could have also resulted in the two sleeping naked together.

"Did we have sex?" Puck asked lazily, scratching his stomach. "Yeah. Was great." Despite Puck's nonchalant answer, Sam's pallor turned a few shades paler. "What's wrong?" Puck asked, setting himself in an upright position against the headboard. Sam didn't answer, dragging himself from the sheets and out of the bed, leaving the room without another word. He felt Pucks eyes burn into him as he did so, and his cheeks burned a fierce shade of red. At least now he could confirm he wasn't wearing pants.

Sam walked into the shower, leaving his guest to his own devices. He adjusted the taps until they released a blissfully hot stream - temperate enough to wipe himself cleaning without giving third degree burns. Stepping under the downpour, Sam let the hot water drizzle down his face, the humidity doing nothing to lull his frustration. He didn't know how Puck does it, but he has this way of creeping under his skin, breaking down every wall to leave Sam completely mesmerised. The end result? A one night stand – exactly the thing he didn't want. Sam had an aptitude for getting things he didn't want, and in this current moment Puck counted as one of those things.

But how would he continue on from here? With school, and with Quinn? This is still technically cheating, even if it was with another man. Somehow Sam would bet Quinn would be more offended to find out that he cheated on her with a man, than another Cheerio. But still, there was a lingering feeling that something else could evolve from a spontaneously night of sex.

_Don't get your hopes up,_ Sam reminded himself. He cupped his hands, splashing the water that fell into them on his face. _Puck just wanted sex. Just like he did with everyone else… Did you forget he was straight again?_

But straight guys don't sleep with other 'straight' guys. Even with all his prior lapses in logic Sam was pretty confident about this. Girls experimented in college, guys couldn't even bump thighs while playing Halo without saying "no homo." Still, what was he to do now? Puck was still in his house, and apparently enjoyed the events that conspired last night. He couldn't just tell the kid to leave – he'd probably have his skull smashed in by his dad the second he got home. Plus, he did take kind of a beating last night, not to mention one hell of a hangover –

_Tap tap tap_

Sam jumped, nearly slipping on the shower floor as Puck's knuckles rattled on the shower screen.

"You've been in there for a while," he noted. "If you need any help, I'd be happy to give it."

Sam's stared at the shower screen owlishly. Water attacked his vision, but he could still make out Puck resting his forearm against the wall, inches from the screen. He was staring at frosted glass, as if trying to see past it with clarity. Puck's sultry voice gave his words even more meaning, and Sam coughed, trying to hide his semi. It was stupid, considering Puck couldn't _see_ him, but the screen could have been plain glass for all Puck's proximity mattered. Just Puck being in the vicinity of naked Sam was enough to screw with Sam's head.

"Oh, um… Could you just get me that towel there?" For some reason Sam didn't want to offend, so he lacked blatancy and just turned off the taps. Drops of warm water stuck to his skin, some of which surely transferred onto Puck as he reached his hand in with a towel. "Thanks." Sam grabbed it and swatted Puck's hand out.

"No problem?" Puck said, not bothering to hide the confusion in his voice, leaving the bathroom with flatfooted steps.

Sam sighed in relief. He probably wanted shower sex or something. He quickly dried himself and fastened the towel around his waist. He saw a figure glide between rooms and hastily shut the bathroom door – he honestly didn't care what room Puck was in as long as it wasn't this one. Turning his attention to the mirror, he noticed the pepperings of discolour on his neck.

"Hickeys," Sam whispered hoarsely. He scrubbed at them with the end of his towel, but that only seemed to make them contrast more. Not to mention sting. "Fuck." He banged a fist on the sink in frustration, talking to the drain hole, wishing for nothing more than to just slide down it and live in the sewers. "First, he seduces me, gives me hickeys, and then looks for shower sex-!" Sam's gaze rose back to his reflection. Puck wanted sex this morning. Puck wasn't drunk this morning (just extremely hung-over).

He store at his reflection for so long that it started to change. It scowled. _Don't get your hopes up, you fuckwit,_ it scolded. _He'd probably take shower sex from Finn if he had the chance. This doesn't mean anything to him; it's just mindless sex. He's too stupid to see how much you want him, and if you let him know he'd just laugh and tell the world._

Sam ruminated on his thoughts for a while, the image of being labelled as "the Other Gay" infiltrating his vision more than he could will it away. He was almost drip-dried before he realized Puck was still in the house. He dashed into his room, changing into some pants. His hand reached for his Avatar shirt, draped across his clothes hanger, but he chose a plain white one from his closet out of embarrassment.

Before he could begin to think of where Puck could be snooping around, his ears pricked at the distant sound of spitting. Not the bodily function, but the cooking reaction. He walked guardedly into the kitchen. Puck was busying himself with a frying pan, shirtless. Sam couldn't help but watch Puck's muscles move under his skin - the way the small of his back stretched as he reached for the stovetop fan, the braille bumps his vertebrae created down the middle of his back.

Puck turned, lifting the frying pan to the kitchen table, which he had set with plates, already stacked with toast, and glasses of orange juice. He must have helped himself to the fridge. And the cupboards. Sam was torn from thinking about how Puck could have had no second thought about scouring his room the previous night and watched Puck divide rashers of bacon, mounds of scrambled eggs, and puddles of baked beans amongst the plates. He set the pan back on the stove, off, and motioned for Sam to join him at the table. It felt odd, considering Puck was _his _guest, and it seemed the whole situation should have been reversed. Nevertheless, Sam awkwardly waddled over to the seat opposite Puck, staring down at this food with a grimace. He felt a sickly, bubbling feeling as he realized Puck expected him to eat the food. He could see the grease pooling off the bacon, making the bread soggy with fat. It nearly made him retch.

"It's to say thanks," Puck explained between mouthfuls. With each bite he looked like he was trying to defy the limitations of his mouth, so much so each swallow had to be downed with a glug of orange juice, just to stop him from choking. "For last night."

Sam didn't know whether he was referring to the sex or the general nursing. It didn't affect his response. "No problem." He smiled at his lap, not wanting to offend Puck, but definitely not wanting to ingest a plate of simple carbs and trans fats. He slowly picked up his fork and forced down his food. It was miraculous he didn't gag, and every second bite he drank some orange juice, just to clear the taste of grease from his palate.

Puck furrowed his brow, noting an oddity. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah… yeah I'm fine," Sam replied before downing another glass.

Puck's shoulders sank. Was something wrong? He had made breakfast special – albeit from all the Evan's ingredients – and he hoped it would be enjoyed more vivaciously. It's not like Puck sucked at cooking, he was as much of a stud in the kitchen as he was in the bedroom. He twirled a rasher of bacon around his fork as he watched Sam carefully place a forkful in his mouth, as if he was trying to avoid his lips. Sam made a weird face as he swallowed, drawing out a long breath as though he had eaten three servings – he had barely had half.

Puck put down his fork and knife with a clatter, finished. Sam was amazed he ate so quickly. Puck chewed what was left in his mouth loudly, wiping his hands on his jeans. "What's wrong with you?" he asked accusingly.

"What?" Sam was slightly taken aback, his large lips forming a dishevelled frown.

"We have _amazing_ sex and now you won't even look at me? What's the deal?"

Sam blushed. "It's nothing."

"Liar," Puck growled. His face softened with empathy. "Why are you acting like you don't like me? We both know you do."

"Because-"

"Are you scared of sex or something? You liked it last ni-"

"I'm not meant to get a crush of the school slut!" Sam yelled in retaliation, shaking with both unease and anger. He scrunched his eyes shut, willing himself to calm down. He looked at Puck, wincing at the inevitably of a sucker punch. Instead, Puck just stared beyond Sam, into space as his shoulders slowly sagged. His eyebrows slanted depressingly and as much as he tried to fight it, his mouth curled into a crushing frown. "Um- I'm so-" Sam forced himself to apologize. He didn't expect a jock to be so wounded, but Puck stood abruptly, knocking his chair backwards.

He looked like wanted to say something, as if the second he would unzip his mouth everything would just burst out, but he fought and his mouth remained clamped. He looked up, once, registering Sam's expression, matching it with his tone, and then he walked out the kitchen before Sam could do anything. Sam could have sworn he heard Puck's breath catch as the front door opened and then closed with a soft bang.

Sam rushed to the door and ran outside, which didn't coincide well with his greasy breakfast. Either way, Puck was already out of sight. With a guilty sigh Sam returned to the kitchen, picking up his plate and dumping its contents into the sink. His words were echoing in his head, each repetition making him feel more and more stupid for speaking. They were repeating, reverberating, and it made him ill to think he could say something so stupid.

He knew he was going to have high school crushes, but he had hoped it wouldn't be on someone he had absolutely no chance with. For example, the jock who sleeps with a different girl every night. And what's even more confusing is that Puck _did in fact _sleep with him. And… it was fun… kind of. But Sam couldn't take it. He wanted Puck, but he couldn't swallow at the confusion that came with him.

Sam was scared, to put it bluntly. And even if Puck did want a relationship? That would be great, but his track record would put him in the most positive light. His track record of cheating and side flings would always leave Sam wondering if he was ever completely faithful. What if he did that? Sam couldn't go through that.

Not again. He couldn't be torn apart so abruptly like before. The mornings events brought upon Sam a whirlwind of memories he'd rather forget, further entrenching him in a determined mindset to live in solitude. It was also how he found himself in the bathroom, sticking a finger down his throat like so many times before, and retching and retching and retching until he was confident all of Puck's grease was gone.

* * *

><p>Puck walked fast down the stone footpath, paying careful attention to not trip over his own feet. He was hurt, and angry.<p>

How could Sam have said that? Right in front of his face, too. Puck was never one to shy away from confrontation, but this time was different. It was Sam. That guy he liked. To see the smile leak from Sam's eyes and his face split into an unrecognizable scowl was downright scary. Puck had no choice but to leave, or else he would have responded to Sam's rare countenance with his rare tears. He left his shirt behind, the one that was tight in all the right places – but it's not like that mattered anymore.

Where would Puck go now? If he was completely honest with himself, which he didn't want to be, he was kind of hoping to stay with Sam for a little while, maybe form the basis of a bromance before he left. That worked out well. The option of returning home was risky – it was Sunday and he wasn't sure if his Dad was still home. He tentatively prodded his healing wounds, nearly reopening the scab on his cheek. His house was not a home at the moment, but only for him. He was the only one who ever received this treatment. It was something he was oddly grateful for. Thinking of his mother and sister looking how he did, bloody and bruised, made him sick.

Even so, he couldn't report the abuse. Though the mere thought of his father makes bubbles of acid react in his gut, his mother still manages to overlook his monstrous faults, pigeonholing his return as good enough of an act to hold him in feelings of great veneration. She actually wakes up every morning when he's home, and when she sets the dinner table for four, she feels as though everything is finally back to normal. Her feelings mattered more to Puck than his own did. Even Sarah thinks he is an acceptable dad. What kind of son would he be if he took the final stab at his already wounded family?

He roamed the streets, trying to keep composed. He may have received a few berating stares, but not that it mattered – he needed a nice torso tan anyway. He lifted his arms to claw his skull. What was he to do with what just happened? He couldn't get over the cold distance in Sam's eyes. He wanted nothing more than for that look to be once more filled with warmth, but he couldn't exactly turn back time. Maybe his reaction wasn't the most logical approach, but hopefully it can be swept under the rug.

Puck took a deep breath, allowing a new train of thought to cloud his mind. _Damn fucking Evans,_ his brain seethed. _If anyone finds out about this my rep will be shot._

Puck wandered aimlessly down the street, on an endless route with no destination. That was until a black SUV pulled up along the curve next to him. Puck didn't even turn around as the tinted window slid down.

"Noah!"

At the sound of his name, and a familiar voice, he turned on his heel to face Kurt looking concerned in the passenger seat. Blaine had a similar look, but it was less natural than Kurt's, almost as if he was fighting the urge to look below Puck's neck.

"Don't call me Noah," he said sternly, furrowing his brow. "It's Puck."

Kurt ignored the question, whereas Blaine nodded with trepidation. "What happened to your face?" He blurted, blushing when Kurt turned to face him with condescension.

When Kurt finally twisted back to Puck, letting his actions drag in hopes Blaine would recognize his own stupidity, he assessed the damage to Puck's face with a cursory glance. "Are you okay? Do you need a ride?"

He seemed to have deemed the injury high enough for him to have to intervene. Puck opened his mouth to answer, catching on his thoughts. A ride? Where? To his own house to be bashed or to Sam's for belittlement. He would prefer the streets. "…It's okay," he finally settled on. "I… don't really have a place to go to right now."

Both Kurt and Blaine's expressions softened at that, and Puck felt a twinge of annoyance for being in a position to be pitied. There wasn't much he could do about it though. "We're going to mine, and you're welcome as well," Kurt said, snaking his arm behind his seat to open the back door. "Hop in."

Puck gauged his options, but had already clambered into Blaine's car before he had even finished. "Thanks," he mumbled, closing the door and settling in his seat. The leather seats stuck to his back slightly, and he was suddenly incredibly aware that he hadn't showered that morning. It wasn't that he stunk; it's just that it would be more reasons to be stared down. He tried to ignore the awkward atmosphere, so thick it was palpable, and waited for Blaine to start the car. When his ears weren't met with the breathing of a locomotive, he looked at Blaine expectantly. He was met with a patient smile that made Blaine's eyes crinkle. With a sigh, Puck buckled his seatbelt, ignoring how frozen it felt against his bare skin.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Blaine slated light-heartedly, as if he was talking to a child. He turned the car on and turned onto the road, attempting to fill in the silence he was met with. "So, um… would it be okay if we ask what happened to you? You seem a little upset."

Puck crossed his arms, forcing his stare out the window to watch the scenery flash past him. "Nothing happened," he said defensively. He crossed his arms. "Just the usual Saturday night for the Puckerman."

"Your face is covered in bruises, and you're half naked. That shouldn't be a usual Saturday night for anyone," Kurt chimed in. His voice was even, lower than usual. He didn't turn when he spoke, so all Puck could see was the line of his jaw move with his words. "If you need to talk about it, we'll gladly lend an ear. We're not going to tell anyone. But if the matter is private, then we can just forget the subject."

It was touching, Puck thought, how Kurt was able to offer support, even after all these years of constant bullying. To think the boy who he'd sent dumpster diving every school day could push away vengeful opportunities in light to help nearly made Puck regret ever being mean to the kid. It made him think about confessing, then and there, about everything that had happened between him and Sam. The sex, the feelings, the argument; the whole lot. Right now, the thought of popping the top on his bottled emotions was tempting, but the lingering premonition of judgement kept his mouth tight-lipped. He was a stud. A sudden eruption of feelings and homosexual encounters was not going to bide well with his image.

"Let's… let's not talk about," Puck decided. He tried to still his quivering lip as the awkward silence returned to the car.

* * *

><p>"Come inside," Kurt instructed as he unlocked the front door. He held the door open for Puck, who walked in with a mumbled 'thanks'. He could hear the buzz of a television a couple of rooms over, and waited for Kurt to overtake him before tailing. Kurt led him through the living room, where Burt was indeed fixed on 'The Deadliest Catch'. Burt's eyes flicked to his guests, returning his sight to the tv for a second before realizing Puck's state with an intense stare.<p>

"Um… Hello, Sir," Puck answered. He was pretty sure, by the look Burt was giving him, that he was trying to match a name to a face. Perhaps it was difficult to tell he was who he was right now. He willed his blush to not spread to his chest. Burt's disapproving frown at Puck was protested by Kurt, who raised a swift hand.

"Relax, Dad, nothing happened. I have to give him one of Finn's shirts."

Burt eyed Puck once more, sternly, before giving a grunt of dismissal and relaying his attention back to the tv. Kurt allowed himself to sashay seamlessly into Finn's room, Puck following like a lost puppy behind him. When Puck entered the room, he found Kurt burrowing through Finn's wardrobe, with no added care like you normally give when you are responsible for something that isn't yours. It's not like Finn cared for his clothes anyway.

"You know, I could just wear one of these," Puck suggested, picking up one of the tank tops strewn across the floor.

Kurt wrinkled his nose. "Ew no. You need something washed. Finn sweats."

Puck flinched away from the top, surreptitiously wiping his hands on the edge of Finn's bed.

"Put this on," Kurt said, throwing a black button-up shirt behind his back. He talking into the wardrobe, so the shirt landed on the opposite side of the room.

Puck fetched it and dressed, squeezing his arms through the sleeves. "A little tight around the guns, but it'll do," he mused, nodding. He walked to the full-length mirror in the corner and surveyed his appearance (not taking into account his face). He ran a hand over the fabric, grinning. "This makes me look ripped! I'm totally keeping this."

Kurt let out a high-pitched laugh as he closed the wardrobe door. "You'll give the shirt back on Monday, and we won't tell Finn about it. Now let's go find Blaine."

Puck hadn't even noticed Blaine was gone, but he was patiently waiting in Kurt's room, drumming his fingers along the bedside table. Hand supporting his chin, he looked up with a cautious smile as Kurt led Puck into the room, making room for them on the bed. Blaine and Kurt sat side by side, staring gently at Puck. Opposite them, Puck gave a quizzical look, raising an eyebrow.

"You guys aren't going to try and jump me, are you? I know this shirt makes me look toned, but rape is sick."

Kurt tilted the edges of his mouth upwards in appreciation of the joke, but levelled them shortly afterwards.

"Puck, we need to talk about something," Blaine said slowly. His constant eye contact and sincere expression made the atmosphere in the room stoop to a serious tone. "Your face is... covered in bruises and cuts-"

"And you were half naked on the street."

"-...Did something happen?"

Puck had to avert his eyes and stare pointedly at the fleece bed sheets; Blaine's stare was just too intense. Puck took a shuddering breath, torn between maintaining his badass aura and just giving in.

"If it helps," Kurt began earnestly, "a problem halved is a problem shared. All this crap I've taken for being me would have stung twice as hard without Mercedes or Dad to talk to-"

"It's Sam." Puck's nerves were tingling with each word Kurt pronounced, and by the end of the sentence he probably would have burst with smouldering secrets. So just casually blurting out 'Sam' is good in comparison.

"Sam did this to you?" Kurt asked, bewildered. Blaine's ears pricked at the name, but he said nothing.

"What? No. This-" Puck pointed to his face "-This isn't the problem. The problem is Sam."

"What'd he do?"

"We had sex."

"Hot," Blaine breathed, before Kurt elbowed him in the ribs.

"Umm... you and Sam did what?"

"Sex. You know, man sex."

"Oh." Kurt flushed a deep crimson before continuing. "Are you guys... dating?"

"No, he still has Quinn or something," Puck said bitterly.

"So you just had a one night stand?"

"Something like that. But we really... I dunno, I thought we connected." Puck sighed

"That's one way to put it," Blaine interjected coyly.

Puck ran his hand down his face, hoping the friction would relieve his embarrassment. All it did was make his cuts sting.

"Ow, shit!" he growled, gritting his teeth. "I just made all this crap up in my head, didn't I? He even said that he loved me straight after and I went and believed him and..."

Kurt kept a steady smile plastered on his face all through Puck's rambling, quietly exchanging words with Blaine.

"Oh my God. Puck's blubbering. What do we do?" Only Blaine's eyes turned to try and see Kurt, but he still heard perfectly.

"Just be sympathetic, sweetie. This can't be easy." Kurt whispered back, nodding absentmindedly towards Puck.

"...and I couldn't say anything back because he was right and then I left and then now I'm here what do I do now?" Puck finished, breathing heavily. Puck looked pleadingly at Kurt, who was at a lost (perhaps he shouldn't have blanked out halfway through Puck and his confessions).

"Well, if I'm any good at dating-" Blaine surmised.

"Which you aren't," Kurt dutifully reminded him.

"-Then I'd think Sam likes you. Probably a lot. But I think he's scared of being hurt. He's scared that the next day you'll have someone else wrapped around your arm and he'll be a joke. Show him you care and then he'll stop being so guarded." Blaine spoke with such sincerity that Kurt turned to face him in surprise.

"That's not like you at all, with good advice," Kurt praised, impressed. "Especially since you haven't even met Sam."

Blaine laughed uneasily, shifting in his spot. "I have some good stuff from time to time."

Puck sat silently for a moment, deep in thought. All he had to do was to stay faithful... really? That's easy. If you think about it, it's not like anyone can rival Sam on the hot scale: he has everything: the cute nerd persona, the body, the lips, and the _ass. _Shuddering, Puck shuffled his hands underneath his legs. In hindsight the plan _was_ easy, but the starting steps would be the hardest, especially after that little kitchen encounter. But the Puckerman wasn't an amateur at wooing people. A flirty song dedicated to [insert target here], some freshly picked flowers, and to top it off, a sexy wink and a pick-up line or two was enough to get one night in bed.

"Just remember Puck, Sam wants to be wooed, but he wants to be loved; he isn't just another girl. He's most likely looking for a relationship. Not just casual sex, or random hook-ups."

_Shit. _"...The Puck-miester is going to have to pull out the stocks for this one then," he said, scratching the nape of his neck. "I've managed to make the ladies swoon, but never a guy... well, not intentionally, anyway." Puck sniggered confidently, flicking a piece of lint off his shoulder.

"...I'm pretty sure you'll get him in the end," Kurt reassured with a tight smile. There was something about that, paired with the devious glint in Kurt's eye, that made Puck wonder about the meddling thoughts occupying Kurt's brain.

Puck glanced at the clock on the wall and grunted. "Fuck, it's already three!" He turned back to face Kurt and Blaine, stretching his face into a sincere smile. It was such a rare occurrence that it looked weird on Puck's face, and the receiving couple were nearly confused. "Ummm... thanks, guys. I actually feel a whole lot better now. And I haven't grown a vagina either, so that's a plus."

"No problem," Kurt scoffed.

"Anytime you need to talk, just give us a ring," Blaine said earnestly. Looking from Blaine to Kurt, Puck saw the similar expressions of understanding and consideration emanating from both. He smiled, beside himself, as stood up from the bed. He didn't even know them that well, and they sacrificed their whole Sunday afternoon just so he could talk to someone. And boy had it helped; not only did it help him plot his next moves, it was also kind of therapeutic. It made him feel fuzzy, as if he was telling someone his deepest secrets, but it was okay because they'd never tell a soul.

"Oh, wait, Puck," Blaine said suddenly, jumping up just as Puck was reaching the door.

"Yeah?" He asked casually, leaning on the doorknob.

"What was the sex like?"

Kurt rolled his eyes. Puck could tell from the glimmer in his eyes and the vastness of his smile that Blaine had wanted to ask this for a while. God, that Blaine was such a closet-slut.

* * *

><p>Leaving Kurt's room with a satisfied smirk, Puck left the two gaping teenagers in his wake.<p>

"Well," Kurt said, astonished, and fanning himself with his hand, "He certainly doesn't skimp on the details."

Blaine pouted, "Why can't _we_ do that?"

"Oh, shut up." Kurt scolded, immune to Blaine's dapper puppy-dog moping. "We need to find a way to get those two together. The prospect of bringing another two men from my school together will definitely quieten the haters. There's always more strength in numbers."

"Yeah, and Sam and Puck would make a hot couple."

"Agreed." They waved their fingertips along each others, grinning mischievously. "Plus, they want it too, we just need to... 'give them a push'."

"But how we do that?"

"Honey, just leave that to me," Kurt replied, the glint in his eyes resurfacing again.

"_Awww,_ who's my sardonic little matchmaker," Blaine teased, leaning in for an Eskimo kiss.

"And who's physically a virgin yet mentally a whore," Kurt retorted, swiping noses once before doubling over in laughter.

He wished the rain would leak through the windows and drown him.


	3. Two New and One Revisited

Hey guys, Chapter Three! Before you read this, **read the updated version of Chapter Two**_**, **_because it's now double the length and double in quality, and the events change completely. Plus, there's some Klaine and I quite like it.

Also, with this chapter I made the canon events kinda skip, because I really don't want to write what we all already know. Yay for dedication! Anyway, I'll try and make it obvious were the canon goes, but soon I'll drift from it and it'll all be AU! Wonderful! And I may not update for a while after this, mainly because I want to try and churn a chapter of _And Then There Were Fewer_ out. Plus the mounds of holiday homework I have and the fact I'm leaving for a few days. Oh, and I have also realized that I made Klaine a couple before their canon, but let's leave it that way. If you still wanna read some Spuck while I'm gone, I suggest _In My Head_ by _Wesz_, it's a great read and probably one of the only other Spuck stories I've seen in a while.

I also should clarify that Rachel had a party for winning Sectionals, and alcohol was supplied. I kinda made that up on the spot, as it's the only way for Puck to know Blaine in the second chapter, but from here on the canon is coherent with _Comeback, S2E13. _Whoopsie, I made a booboo.

**I don't own Glee. I don't even own the computer I'm using to write this.**

Also, please, please review and comment and critique and show some sign that someone is reading this my email is getting lonely and I'm beginning to develop an unhealthy addiction to ice cream.

Monkeysonfire

Why thank you, that is quite a compliment, I'm honoured!

* * *

><p>Puck walked up to Sam, who was busily searching through his locker. With a confident stride, Puck playfully prodded his shoulder before leaning against the wall.<p>

"Hey," he said as Sam looked up. Sam glanced at Puck's lazy stance and immediately returned his attention to organizing his Spanish books. He tries not to look at how Puck's black button up shirt makes him look ripped, and how it rides up his abs when he tilts like that, but you only live once.

_Easy, Sam_, he thinks coaxingly. _He only wants you for sex. Don't let him use you like that. Just play it cold, just like we planned._

"Hi."

"So, ummm... about Saturday-"

"What about Saturday? Nothing about Saturday." Sam interrupted, slamming his locker shut. His distant act was working perfectly, considering the look on Puck's face. Turning around to walk away, Sam took a step before he felt his collar being tugged.

"Nothing about Saturday? _Nothing_ my ass." Puck growled, pulling Sam back so they were face to face.

"I-If this is about what I said, then I'm sorry," Sam wished he wasn't so easily intimidated, but he could already feel his legs cowering slightly. "Caught in the moment."

"This isn't about your words," Puck said with a rasping quality hitched on his voice. "This is about me and you and-" He looked around for any possible eavesdropping "-being together."

"Being together? We aren't together." Sam was blunt in his statement, a quirky eyebrow raised. Puck gulped. _Shit_, that wasn't what he meant to say.

"I meant sex," he said all too quickly. Sam hushed him with his hands, glancing at their surroundings.

"Not so loud!" He whispered hoarsely.

"Oh, who cares. We had sex. With feelings." _Fuck, he did it again._

"I don't remember any feelings," Sam stated coldly.

Puck looked at him in awe. "The fuck? Dude-"

"Listen, Puck. What we did was a one night stand. You probably say all that to everyone you sleep with... Just move on." _Perfect._

"Huh...?" Puck watched in dismay as Sam turned around slowly and walked away. He'd like to think he heard Sam wistfully sigh as he did so, but Puck wasn't sure if he was imagining things. ...Did he just get... turned down? That wasn't what he was expecting. Sure, he didn't think this would be easy, but still...

Raising an incisive eyebrow at Sam's fading figure, Puck couldn't shake the feeling there was something more behind this hurried dismissal.

"_When I first met you I knew, you were the one,"_ he sang softly, rising from his position against the lockers and following Sam's trail. It was true. From the second he laid eyes on Sam, there was something. Not that it was love. It could have been love, but it's hard to distinguish love and lust on first impressions. Rounding a corner Puck was met with a sea of students, scrambling to how they saw fit. In the middle of his vision was Sam. Kurt was walking away from him calculatingly, and as Sam faced away he was met with the sweet embrace of Quinn.

"'_Till you took me home and I met her..."_

_Quinn._ Puck felt slightly guilty with how he now thought that name. It had a growl to it, a stinging resentment, but not without reason. After all, she had woven what would be his boyfriend into a web of deceit and bi-curiosity, and Sam was so lacking in self-esteem he was willing to be used. It made him sick.

"_She had your boxers on, and she was listening to, your song, and I thought right then you had everything."_

Something wasn't right. Puck could sense it. Or see it, really. It wasn't that Quinn was wearing Sam's letterman jacket, it was Sam. Releasing Quinn from his embrace, Puck saw the blank look in Sam's eye. His face was smiling, and his plump lips were stretched from ear to ear, but his eyes were blank and emotionless. There was no sparkle of happiness, no twinkle of content. It was just plain wrong.

"_But I knew, she was jealous from the start. Yeah I knew, she was jealous from the start..."_

Quinn was jealous, and Puck knew it. Even though Sam was trying to hide his despondent feelings, Quinn could still feel them radiating from him. She held both of his shoulders, forcing him to look at her smile, as if trying to get him to perk up in return. Sam pushed his smile wider, but it just made his eyes look more miserable by comparison. The hopelessness in Quinn's eyes made it apparent the facade was not fooling her. She laced her fingers through his, and they began to walk off together down the corridor. Quinn's fingers were folded tightly against Sam's knuckles, but his digits were limp and loose, only wanting to create the illusion of affection. And yet, Quinn still held on, as tight as ever, even though her level of enthusiasm was not being requited. Why?

"'_Cause I know better not to be friends with boys with girlfriends, I know better than that, I know better...You play the victim and I'll be the bad guy, I know better than that, I know better..."_

Sam and Quinn's profiles began to fade into the crowd as they walked down the hallway. Quinn was leaning into Sam, resting her head on his shoulder. This wasn't fair. Puck should know better, but in retrospect Quinn should have a clue or two as well. And Sam should _definitely_ take stand. Quinn really has got him by the balls. But Puck was too persistent to give up, any premonition to be was drained by the look on Sam's face. It just didn't make sense: Sam wasn't happy, but he was still denying the one who would make him happy. And if Puck tried to recruit a new boyfriend, Sam would probably take the road always travelled by and just label Puck as the bad guy. Just like he was with Quinn.

"'_Cause I know better not to be friends with boys with girlfriends, I know better than that, I know better... You play the victim and I'll be the bad guy, I know better than that, I know better..."_

* * *

><p>Sam painfully walked away from Puck, trying not to look back. <em>It's for the best<em>, he reminded himself, _we can't have a repeat of last time. _Sam was so absorbed in his thoughts he didn't see Kurt slide next to him with a friendly smile.

"... Sam!" Kurt stressed, waving a hand in front of his face in order to establish his presence. "Hey, you look troubled. What's up?"

"Oh, hey Kurt," Sam replied in a monotone. "I'm fine, thanks, you?"

Kurt swiftly walked forward, obstructing Sam's path and making him stop in his tracks. Kurt stared intensely at his eyes, scanning them as Sam looked down and nervously tried to flatten his stomach.

"Liar. You're not okay. Your eyes are a dead giveaway."

"Like how?" Sam snarled defensively. He blinked owlishly at how venomously his words sounded, but Kurt seemed too familiar with self-protective tactics to care.

"Your eyes look sad, Sam." Kurt stated, care woven into his voice. "Your face is smiling but your eyes are crying. And they're dilated."

"So?"

"There's a reason for dilated eyes that doesn't stem from light, Samuel. It's arousal."

"Oh, Kurt, um... look, we're just friends, okay?" Sam stuttered, immediately flushing with embarrassment.

"What? Oh, I know that!" Kurt laughed, "You were aroused before. When you were talking to Puck." Sam's eyes opened owlishly, and he laughed maniacally.

"Me and Puck? That's hilarious!" Sam released another longing sigh, making scratching the nape of his neck in remorse when realized his mistake. "..._Shit._"

"Look, Sam. I understand how hard it can be sometimes, because I've been through it all-"

"-But there's nothing going on with Puck!" Sam must have subconsciously expressed his dismay at this fact, as Kurt's face softened when he said it.

"Do you really believe that?" Kurt whispered, making sure only Sam could hear.

"Yes!" Sam stated defiantly, "Maybe...?" He reconsidered, shoulders sinking slightly. He stared pointedly at the ground before glancing up and Kurt's sceptical expression. "No," he shyly confessed, toeing the ground with his converse.

"Well, if you ever need someone to talk to, just give me a ring. Anytime, I'll always here for my friends."

"Thanks," Sam replied, exhaling with considerably more ease than before. He felt as a troubling weight had been lifted off his chest, and he was certain a small amount of spark returned to his eye. "But... how did you know?"

"Um, well, I-I...-"

"Hey guys, what's up?"

Kurt was flustered when trying to answer his question, but luckily Quinn appeared, effectively muting their current conversation.

"Oh, nothing," Kurt lied, airily gesturing with his hand, "I'll see you guys later!"

"..What was that about?" Quinn inquired, opening her arms to give her boyfriend a hug.

"It was nothing," Sam explained, the spark in his eye effectively fading again. Quinn clamped Sam's shoulders with her hands, surveying him with interest. The cuffs of his letterman jacket (which Quinn was wearing) felt crusty on his shoulders. He locked eyes with Quinn as she studied his face, trying to look as sincere as possible.

"Okay," she affirmed, placing her hand in his. They began to walk down the corridor, Quinn grasping his hand tightly.

Sam thought it was odd how quickly she accepted his answer. It was bugging him, how his own girlfriend easily passed his distress, whereas a mere friend dug for the truth. Quinn laid her head on his shoulder, making him recoil slightly. How could she see him so depressed, yet still pretend they were the poster couple for "_McKinley's most popular"_? Sam cared about his social status, but was _this_really worth it?

* * *

><p>Leaving her Maths class, Quinn walked bouncily down the hallway. She smiled at the sight of love hearts and pink littering the halls – Valentine was such a romantic occasion. Striding past a door, she entered the Auditorium, running down the steps and up to the stage, where Finn was anxiously waiting for her.<p>

Yep, Valentine was such a romantic occasion for couples. But as her lips forcibly met with her exes, Quinn did not feel an ounce of guilt towards one Sam Evans.

* * *

><p>"<em>This morning I woke up and decided to swallow the sun<em>." Sam plastered a goofy grin on his face, trying not to laugh at his credible imitation. At the bemused look he received from Santana, he sunk a little in his chair. "...It's my James Earl Jones expression," he clarified.

"First of all, that is offensive," Santana ranted. She looked close to stapling those guppy lips shut. "He shot Martin Luther King."

"_Obe One never told you what happened to your father_," he began, lips curling to recreate the sound of Darth Vader.

Massaging her temples, Santana took a fortifying breath. "Okay, you know what? Let's just cut to the chase. Despite the fact your mouth to face ratio is like, way off, you still somehow manage to be cute." Sam moved his lips into an appreciative smile, but that did not hinder any of Santana's words. "Make no mistake," she warned. "Every time you open your mouth to... do an impression, or moisten an enormous stamp for a lazy giant, you take one step closer to everyone seeing that you are actually _a dork_."

Sam's smile was replaced with an impassive line as he turned his attention down to the desk he was sitting at. He was trying to hide the fact that while the insult hurt, he had for a second suspected Santana to catch him out on his one night stand.

"Which is where I come in. I hereby offer my services as a mistress." Sam had to clench his mouth shut to prevent a laugh from bursting out of his mouth. The slightly seductive voice Santana had used made it all the funnier, but Sam couldn't help but think of his answer if Puck had asked him the same question. "I wants on them Froggy Lips, and I wants on 'em _now_."

"But I'm dating Quinn," Sam smirked, a hint of taunting in his voice.

"And this just in – _she cheated on you_."

"No she didn't," he stated defiantly, crossing his head, much to the amusement of Santana.

"Look. I know you're as dumb as a bag of wet hair, but you know in your heart she is _lying_. That gumball story was _insane_. You're choosing to believe it so you can still be with her."

Looking victorious, Santana flipped her hand behind her back as Sam stared desolately at the desk. She had got Sam, because everything she said was true, and she knew it. She just didn't discern the reasoning.

Sam also knew Santana was right: he was choosing to believe an obvious lie. All to stay with Quinn. But not for romantic purposes: for identity concealing ones. Quinn was all Sam had to keep him above water surrounding the whole gay conspiracy. Without her, he would sink.

Santana turned sideways, masking herself with her best captivating techniques. "But consider my offer. Not only am I giving you full visitation rights to the set of rambunctious twins that live on my ribcage, you get the chance to show that pastry bag Finn that he can't mess with Sam Evans. And not just because you can unlock your humongous jaw and swallow him whole like a python, but because you have some _buzz_ at this school."

Sam locked eyes with Santana. She had proposed her services at the best time possible. A time where he could simultaneously get over Puck and make him jealous at the same time. Quinn would be jealous too, that could be a plus as well. He gazed shyly into her eyes, uncertain about his motives for creating this new Glee pairing. Santana was most likely expecting some action down the track, and Sam didn't really want to give it. He was surprised she didn't call him out when he cringed at the mention of 'rambunctious twins that live on my ribcage'. Giving him a light hearted shrug, Santana ended the conversation.

"Think about it," She said as she stood up and walked out of the library. Taking a deep breath, Sam was left to dwell on his thoughts and incentive.

* * *

><p>The bell sounding the end of the day rang, and Puck instinctively hurried to Sam's locker. Tapping him on the shoulder when he arrived, Puck tried to appear as nonchalant as possible.<p>

"So, you and Santana?" He asked casually, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah," Sam swallowed, heaving his bag out of his locker.

"You and Santana?" Puck repeated, dumbfounded.

"Is that a problem? Sam retorted flatly.

"Yes. It is a problem," Puck hissed. "There was something between us. And I'm going to show you."

"Really?" Sam exclaimed hopefully. "Wait." Regaining his composure, Sam began anew. "I have Santana, dude." Lowering his eyebrows to hide his wish for the former statement, Sam turned around and walked away, leaving Puck alone.

...What. The hell. These mixed messages were beginning to get too cryptic for Puck, but his Mohawk senses were telling him that Sam wanted to be shown love. But why? Why couldn't he just accept the fact that Puck, even with an atrocious record, actually likes him? Doesn't he know that behind the badass is an actual human being with (a limited amount of) feelings?

Dialling his phone, Puck sighed. There was only one person who still made him feel like he was maintaining his persona while spilling his guts out.

"Hey, Kurt," Puck answered as he heard him pick up. "You finished school yet? ..._Awesome_. Meet me at the Lima Bean in two hours... I don't really care what you wear. Just be there."

* * *

><p>Seated at a secluded area at the Lima Bean, Puck slurped his Caramel Frappe as he watched a flustered Kurt burst through the glass doors. Signalling to the barista to order his usual ("Thanks, Martha,") he plumped himself on a chair adjacent Puck, regaining his breath.<p>

"Okay," he puffed, checking his pulse, "What's so important?"

"It's Sam," Puck announced dramatically, staring at Kurt vividly. Kurt looked at Puck murderously, his eye twitching slightly.

"You rushed me into staining my Marc Jacobs for _gossip_?" spluttered Kurt. At the sight of Puck's raised eyebrow, he surrendered his facade. "...Tell me everything."

Amused, Puck began to recall the events of the prior school day. "He wants me. I just know it. It's weird."

"How so?"

"Well, I don't think I've even _thought_ of sex with anyone else since Saturday."

Kurt stared blankly, propping his elbow on the arm rest to support his head. "Oh!" He jumped, blinking owlishly. "That is weird for you."

"Yeah."

"Well, good for you – Thanks Martha-" Kurt took his drink and thanked the barista before allowing her to return to her counter. "-Maybe if you tell Sam this, it might convince him to give you a chance."

"Yeah... Yeah!" Puck explained, gaining enthusiasm. "It all makes sense! I want him and only him, and he won't admit it, but he has the hots for a little Puckerman. This is great!..."

Courtly taking a sip of his Grande Non-fat Mocha, Kurt watched contently as Puck's brain connected the dots. This wasn't a normal Puck, and it was blatantly obvious. The anarchic badass was would never allow his feelings to be so readable - it was almost as if his irises had taken the form of love hearts. Though unusual as it was, Kurt couldn't help but smile. Maybe it was the warm feeling he got when he cupped his Mocha, or maybe it was because he was helping two people find each other.

* * *

><p>"This is weird," Sam whispered to Santana. He was trying to suppress the urge to talk during the movie, but he couldn't wrap his head around it. "We're in a movie; shouldn't we be making out or something?" Sam didn't actually want to, which was why he withheld the question for so long. He didn't want – or need – to lock lips with Santana. Even if he could mentally configure her face to look like Puck's, he wouldn't risk the chance of receiving mono.<p>

"Oh, please," Santana said warily, "Don't act like you want to." She didn't even turn her attention to him as she scooped another handful of popcorn. It was weird, where Santana was staring. Namely, her head was looking below the screen. Tracing her gaze, Sam saw Brittany and Artie, faces mashed on one another as though they were glued together.

"You like Artie..." Sam realised, speaking to the floor. "Then why'd you break up me and Quinn?"

"For the love of God, I think your hair dye is killing your brain cells," Santana sighed impatiently. "It's Brittany."

"...That would make more sense." Sam said, nodding in understanding. He would be more shocked about the news, but he had heard some stories about the two.

"I don't even know why she's with Wheels. Stupid paraplegic parking," she mumbled, crossing her arms.

"...Yeah, that sucks," Sam replied empathically. "But if you like her, why are you here with me?"

"Because you have the hots for Puck, so I knew you wouldn't pull any moves."

"Umm... what?" Sam asked, feigning confusion.

"Please, don't play dumb with me, even thought you might not be playing." Santana snapped, flicking her hair. "I've seen you drool over his Mohawk. I swear, he walked into Glee with a Bieber fro and you flooded the whole corridor with your big-mouth brand saliva." Looking at Sam's hurt face made Santana soften her expression, but her arms remained crossed. "We're a beard, that's it. Now shut up and let me snoop."

As Santana returned her attention back to Bartie, Sam sighed and tried to pay attention to the rest of the film.

* * *

><p>Closing the door to his room, Sam checked the time on his watch. It was quarter past five. With a groan, Sam wondered why he opted for the early movie session and took out his phone. Scrolling down the contacts, he located the number he needed to call. He pressed his phone to his ear and waited for the dial tone to end.<p>

"Kurt?" he asked the silence. "It's Sam."

"Oh, hi Sam!" There were muffled whispers on Kurt's end, before he began to talk again, "so, what's on your mind?"

"Puck." He said flatly.

"Puck's on your mind?" Kurt repeated, "But I thought you were with Santana?"

"That's a beard, she wants Brittany," Sam explained sulkily. "I just need an opinion."

"Of course, Sam," Kurt soothed, "shoot."

"Is... it weird... for me to like... Puck?" Sam twisted his fingers in his hair, anxiously waiting for Kurts response.

"Of course it isn't weird to like Noa- ow! I mean Puck," Kurt stated, his voice turning begrudgingly after the exclamation of pain. "Judging by your interactions, the sooner you two get together the better. Or else you'll just spontaneously combust with lust and desire."

"...But what if he doesn't like me?" Sam worried, sighing into the phone.

"Trust me. He does." Kurt assured, a small rumble in his voice.

"...Really?" Sam beamed, his eyes twinkling with hope before reverting back to ones of veracity. "...But what if he gets tired of me and just sleeps with some chick?"

Sam heard muffled voices in the background before Kurt actually answered. "I have it on good authority that he wouldn't even think of it," he replied smugly.

"...Kurt," Sam croaked in a scared voice, "...who's in the background?"

"That's just Blaine, why?"

"Oh," Sam exhaled with liberation, "Cool. Anyway, thanks for listening to my dribble."

"Of course Sam, it was my pleasure."

"See you at school."

"Bye."

* * *

><p>Hanging up his phone, Kurt turned to face a smirking Puck.<p>

"I knew it," Puck revealed, circling the rim of his empty Frappe cup with his finger. "He wants me."

"There's still work to be done," Kurt reminded, "Sam's self-esteem is incredibly low. I doubt he thinks anyone could ever get past his dorky personality."

"Well, you obviously haven't snuck a peak in the locker room now, have you?"

"And what makes you think I haven't?" Kurt retorted slyly, draining the rest of his drink.

"Get out!" Puck laughed, raising his fist to be bumped by Kurt, not addressing the domineering feeling he received when he imagined someone interested in his soon to be boyfriend. Now all he had to do was make the soon-to-be a now and everything would be where it should be. And Puck knew just how to do it.

* * *

><p><em>Walking hand in hand with Puck, Sam passed the shining banner and entered the carnival. It was his first date with Puck. He silently munched on a toffee apple, thinking about how perfect his hand seemed to fit into Puck's. There was no sweating, and even though they were both relaxing their digits didn't slide or fidget or itch.<em>

_Passing the various stalls with great amusement, they walked to a High Striker. The bespectacled vendor snootily handed Puck a mallet._

"_Try this one for size, Mr. Muscles," he taunted, rubbing the top of his moustache._

"_Bring it," Puck bragged, puffing out his chest. He pointed at Sam, blowing his a kiss. "For you, babe."_

_Tensing his muscles, Puck brought the mallet down on the lever. The bell suspended at the top of the tower was hit with such force it was knocked to the ground. It omitted a harsh ringing sound, and Puck was handed a large plush monkey._

"_Brung," Puck laughed, walking away from the pouting vendor and turning his attention back to Sam. "A prize for my prize." Sam tried not to blush as Puck handed him the toy and pecked him on the cheek, but he failed miserably._

"_Now where should we go?" Sam squeaked, still not believing he was on a date with Puck._

"_I say... the Hall of Mirrors," Puck simpered, eyes glimmering. With his sentence, a loud _bang_ from a drum was heard, and the sky turned a dark red. Shadows consumed all surroundings, and only the daunting entrance to the Hall of Mirrors was visible._

Bang.

_Puck's hazel eyes formed into ones of crimson, irises fading into the venomous colour. His peaceful grip on Sam's hand was now forceful and tense. It was making Sam's hand bruise, and he was whimpering in pain, but Puck remained focused ahead._

Bang.

_Sam tried to stop moving forward, to break the hold which Puck held on him, but he couldn't. Despite his mental struggle, Sam's legs kept unconsciously moving forward, as if he had no control over them._

Bang.

"_Here we are."_

_Puck's voice was cold and lacking its usual sultriness. _

"_Puck..." Sam began, but he paused to stare as Puck's hair began to grow. It enveloped his Mohawk, turning it brown, and it styled itself upwards. His nose and jaw receded backwards, and his muscled stature reduced to a more lanky appearance. Sam gasped in horror as his ex was fleshed out before his eyes. He finally managed to squirm his hand free, only to see it was covered in blood and fingernail markings. "...Sebasti-"_

"_In. Now." Sebastian commanded, pushing Sam forward. Sam floated into the hall, finding the exit was gone. He was surrounded on all sides by mirrors that seemed to be infinitely high. Sebastian occupied the space of each one, his eyes staring predatorily at Sam._

"_Look," he snarled. "Don't you see it?"_

"_See what?" Sam boomed, trying to stop his legs from shaking._

"_Humph," Sebastian made a disparaging grunt. "Take a look for yourself."_

_The mirrors were replaced with reflections of Sam, all of them growing larger by the second. Sam placed a shaking hand on his cheek, feeling the ample amount of fat and skin beginning to form. _

"_No..." He gasped brokenly, instantly regretting every Cool Ranch Dorito and hotdog he'd ever eaten. He turned his head, witnessing all of his reflections in unison. His shirt buttons burst from their seams, revealing mounds of flabby skin. His muscles were stretched and replaced with an abundance of flesh. His legs doubled in size, straining the stitching in his jeans. His shoes were painfully tight for feet, and he squished his eyes shut, trying to will away the weight._

_He tried everything to try and stem his growth, but nothing worked. He desperately pulled and yanked at the weight, hoping that it would somehow detach itself from his skin, but it only made it grow faster._

"_No!" He yelled, choking on wails. He tried to grip his head in his hands, but he realized he didn't have enough strength to lift his arms that high. Sam fell to his knees, cringing at the sound of his spacey flesh hitting the floor. His head fell in defeat and his eyes leaked a stream of tears._

_Sebastian walked out of the mirror in front of Sam, looking down in triumph. _

"_See?" He said with crossed arms. "Not even Puck would want you now."_

_Sam growled before a screech hitched in his breath. Sebastian laughed maniacally and the surrounding mirrors broke, one by one, until the last one was shattered and all was pitch black._

Waking, Sam took deep, calming breaths. Bolting upright, he was covered in sweat and his dream remained vivid in his mind. His cheeks felt wet: the dream was fake, but his tears were real. Quietly walking to the bathroom, he turned on the light, trying not to wake his family. Taking a second to let his eyes adjust to the rapid change in light, Sam sighed with relief at the sight of his body in its normal state.

_Don't celebrate too soon. That dream wasn't fake, it was just imagined_, his brain drawled. Dragging an almost lifeless hand across his waist, Sam bit back a sniff.

"_Not even Puck would want you now."_

* * *

><p>The song used is <em>Boys with Girlfriends<em> by _Meiko_. Finally, something good came out of my job.

I hope you guys can finally see what kind of Sam I'm going for, because frankly I dunno if I'm doing a good job at portraying him. Antagonistic-Subconscious!Sam. That's a new one. I was meant to have another song in here, but I just can't fit them without it seeming forced. Darn. There's also a large hint to Sam's past in there, which will eventually explain his current state. If you get the Season Three character reference, then yay! The dream was the hardest (and most fun) thing to write in this chapter. I bet half of you were thinking I'd lost it, but the dream is meant to be full of symbols and it's a place where Sam's subconscious rules domain. Things may seem weird, but in dreams things always are... that and I did kinda feel as if it was no my best writing. Oh well.

A high striker is one of those generic 'test your strengths' you see on tv whenever someone goes to a carnival. Unfortunately, the little measure that tells you your strength is called a puck, so there were some difficulties there and I just left the word out completely.

**Please review, comment, critique, review, and whatever else, I love to hear from people and it's the only motivation I have.**


	4. Subconscious Confrontation

Okay, guys, thanks for being so patient! Here is Chapter Four! How exciting! This is now officially the longest fiction I've ever written, including my original works! Just one thing you should know with this chapter: there's a recess. I'm fairly confident in saying that high school around the world get them (even Courts do), but just in case you don't know, Recess is like a short lunch break before halfway between lunch and the beginning of the school day. Okay, end paranoia. Now.

I'm having a little trouble finding some songs for this fiction, so anything you feel that could somehow relate or be cohesive with the plot, please suggest in the reviews or via Private Message. I'm planning to incorporate Sam and Puck's past, hopefully giving some insight into why they act how they do (some may even relate to a little cannon, unless I've been lenient in my research). But that will probably be in later chapters.

Okay, I know I said I was struggling to find songs but bloody hell I just found three... so yeah...

JasonDragon64

Heheh, something like that ;D Thanks for the review!

Urkart, kaszz-chan, thefabwitch

Aw, you're all too kind! Thank you for reviewing!

Corey Foreside

I'm not quite sure what you mean by "spit game," but thanks for the review!

Now, onto the story! **PS, you should all review, alert, and fav! Thanks to all those who already have, I love you !**

* * *

><p>Sam carefully balanced his pen between his fingers. He was in Biology, but had completely zoned out. He had been fighting the hunger pangs as best he could in the first half of the lesson, but he soon abandoned his learning attempts and sunk into the blissful rumbling his stomach was omitting. It felt as it was gnawing at his other organs, trying to leech some nutrients out of their vitality, but it felt synonymous with <em>weight loss<em>, and that was all that Sam cared about. He only hoped the noises weren't so loud his neighbours could hear him.

Usually he tried to eat healthy, but a new motivation had caused him to block off food completely.

"_Not even Puck would want you now."_

Just one dream, paired with the relentless jabs from his self-esteem, was enough to make him feel as though he should live with the circus under the alias of _Obese Blonde Man._ It was terrible, agonizing, and definitely not healthy. But Sam didn't care. He hadn't touched food since his dream, and that was eight hours and an early morning jog ago. His eyes were unfocused, and his head was resting heavily on his shoulder. Sam had even stopped appearing as though he was listening, choosing instead to concentrate on maintaining his breathing and keeping his thoughts off food.

Thankfully, Sam's unyielding torture was diminished with the reverberating sound of the Recess bell. Pulling all his books into his lacklustre hand, Sam walked out of the classroom. He began to slowly walk to his locker when he felt an arm slink around his bicep.

"Hey_yyyyy_," Puck drawled, his voice light and carefree. He steered Sam in a direction completely opposite of where he intended to go. "Come on, I need to show you something." He beckoned, looking up as the Choir Room came into view. With a grin, he pulled Sam inside and gently pushed him to a chair.

Sam fell with a small _oomph_, gripping his books uncomfortably. This was supposed to be his gym time. "I have to- I've gotta-" Sam began, standing from his seat.

Puck, who now had his guitar strapped gracefully over his shoulder, pointed it at Sam as a warning. "Sit. I wasn't asking." Sam gulped, and felt the muscles in his legs tense as he sat back down. Sam couldn't quite guess what Puck was doing, considering they were all alone in a locked Choir Room. Puck's dialogue towards Sam didn't seem friendly, but it was highly unlikely Sam would cop a bashing when Puck has his precious instrument in his arms. Sam listened to his heartbeat slow down, unaware that Puck was waiting for eye contact to start his plan. One large, audible throat clearing later and Sam was at Puck's full attention, nervously twisting his the pages of _The Study of Biology_ with his hand.

"Okay," Puck exhaled, "the reason you're here is because I have to show you something. Well, I'll tell it as well, so it's a show-tell thing and-" Puck closed his eyes, realizing his redundant blabbering. He took a deep breath and tried decided to just get to the point. "I like you, Sam," he confessed bluntly. "And I know you like me. Whether it's because of my badassness or my sexy good looks, who knows? But you do like me, no matter how much you try to deny it." Sam shifted nervously in his seat, pointedly staring at the door. His knuckles were turning white and his recently calmed heartbeat was now rapidly increasing.

"But fear not!" Puck continued, "For the Puckster is here to tell you it's okay to like me, because the feeling's mutual. And if you're not comfortable with telling anyone, I don't care, and if you don't want to have sex, I'll convince you... again." Sam couldn't repress the smirk that usurped the control he had on his mouth. Puck was also simper over his last, implied to be teasing, few words.

After the affectionate gag, he continued again. "Okay, now shut up and listen. Me and Laura here are going to sing a song. It's for you." Sam's smirk remained on his lips as Pucks eyes twinkled in fondness. This intervention was turning out to be okay. Placing his books on the chair next to him, Sam let his hands lay comfortably in his lap as Puck began to strum unaccompanied chords on his guitar. Soon the deep instrumental was accompanied by Puck's dreamy vocals, his raspy voice adding a newfound quality to the coherent lyrics.

"_This is the first day of my life, I swear I was born right in the doorway. I went out in the rain suddenly everything changed, they're spreading blankets on the beach._

"Yours is the first face that I saw, I think I was blind before I met you. Now I don't know where I am, I don't know where I've been, but I know where I want to go."

Looking earnestly into Sam's big eyes, Puck was reminded of why chose this song. For two reasons: One, he made it sound absolutely smoky and tear jerking. And two, it was freakishly consistent with his interactions with Sam. Puck doesn't know who he is; he couldn't just simply stick a label and stick to it (Badass couldn't only explain so much). And he sure as hell doesn't know where he has been, or why he has been there, frolicking around with every willing girl under the sun. The only thing Puck knew, one hundred percent, was that he knew where he wanted to go. Well, he wanted to go anywhere really, as long as it was with Sam.

"_...And so I thought I'd let you know, that these things take forever. I especially am slow, but I realize that I need you, and I wondered if I could come home."_

It finally clicked to Sam what Puck's intentions were when he called him here. It wasn't to bash him with his guitar; it was to _ask him out._ He probably should have gathered that from Puck's speech earlier, but those lines of the song cleared his mind and helped him see. Puck knew these things took time, and he knows that he's slow. But he also sees that he needs Sam, and that he wants to be with him. It was nice, really. Everything Puck was doing screamed adoration: the stare, his stance, his voice. They all portrayed his feelings to a tee.

With a reminiscent smile, Puck continued.

"_Remember the time you drove all night, just to meet me in the morning. And I thought it was strange you said everything changed, you felt as if you'd just woke up. And you said 'this is the first day of my life, I'm glad I didn't die before I met you. But now I don't care I could go anywhere with you, and I'd probably be happy'."_

Sam was unable to repress the feeling as his insides became tingly at the memory. Their first romantic encounter; driving at midnight to find Puck, and the following events after that. The song recalled them perfectly. Sam drew in breath from his mouth, allowing his cheeks to puff under the pressure. He exhaled slowly, calming his nerves as he did so.

"_So if you want to be with me, with these things there's no telling. We just have to wait and see, but I'd rather be working for a pay check, than waiting to win the lottery. Besides maybe this time is different, I mean I really think you like me."_

Puck let his fingers recite the last chords of the song, echoing into silence before slinging his guitar over his shoulder. He looked pleased with his proposal, a smug expression on his face.

"So, what'd'ya think?" He asked, opening his arms to emphasise the question. "Wanna try being a couple?"

"Uhhhh..." Sam paused, trying to think of an answer. He knew what he wanted to say. ('Yes, duh, it's been my fantasy for months now!') But he couldn't say that. Not just yet. Puck did a convincing job saying that he would be loyal, trustworthy, and overall a great partner - but then again, so had someone else.

_Are you stupid? Do you remember what happened last time? Are you seriously just going to walk into another relationship? That worked well, what with the resulting relocation and all..._

"I..." Sam started, but he wasn't able to speak anymore after that: his conflicting desires were affecting his ability to speak. One half of him wanted desperately to say yes, while the other wanted to stay protected from McKinley's most reputable heartbreaker. They fought for control over his mouth, leaving him utterly speechless in the process. A slight tinge formed on Sam's cheeks as he realized his unmanageable muteness, and Puck formed a misguided concept.

"I get it, you need more time," Puck acknowledged, his voice an eerily depressing tone. It was very different to the smoothness of his singing. "Find me when your mind is made." Puck walked out of the Choir Room, his face shielded from Sam. It was lucky it was, because Puck's expression was wrung with worry and doubt.

* * *

><p>If you happened to pass him in the halls, you would have thought Puck was his normal, badass self. Sly grin intact, the occasional dagger, and overall emanating confidence. Puck applauded his ability to appear collected in front of strangers. It is a lot harder to control in front of people causing the offending feelings, and it probably always will be, but as long as Puck could flee from them from time to time, all was well.<p>

He dawdled into his Maths class, arriving late and with only a pencil, calculator, and graph pad (as usual). His teacher gave him the standard glare, but he shrugged it off and found his seat at the back of the room. The class was well into their lesson, and the only sounds were scribbles on paper and the clicking of calculators, but Puck was concentrated on other matters. Sam in particular.

Puck was absolutely certain that Sam liked him. After all, Kurt had clarified this. But then why did he say no to a date? Wasn't the traditional answer 'yes', if someone you liked asked you out? Then why, _why_ did he say no? Unless... did Sam even like him in the first place?

They had slept together, and Puck thought that meant something, but he was reminded of all the meaningless sex he participated in over his life. Did Sam just think they were friends with benefits?

But Sam had told Kurt his feelings... did Sam lie about those too? Did he just humour Kurt, just so he didn't seem like a man whore? Puck anxiously plucked lashes from his eyes. It was always something he did when he was anxious. The numb twitch that followed proved to be soothing. _Sam just needs more time to think. Calm yourself, Puckerman, _he thought to himself. _Take a nap, and then you'll feel more relaxed._

Walking into Glee Club, Sam did his best not to lose his footing as he plunked himself down onto a chair. His breathing was erratic and his eyesight was foggy from famine. Sam had considered eating, but every time he thought of the cafeteria food his unintentional mantra repeated inside his head, the mental image of him stuffing calories into his mouth making him gag. Instead, Sam endured a double lesson of Practical Fitness with water as his only sustenance. It was unbearable, but so was the thought of gaining unnecessary weight by giving into stupid cravings. He wasn't hungry.

Sam looked around the Choir Room: he hadn't noticed Tina and Rachel enter. That explained the slightly affronted looks on their faces, both pointedly ignoring Sam. They probably said hello and he was too famished to even hear it. What he did hear though, was a familiar greeting as Puck entered the room, optimism etched on his face. Suddenly, Sam felt his breathing become deeper, and though he needed to fill his lungs to the brim with air. His head began to throb painfully, and it hurt to blink. His vision became clouded as Puck walked in his direction, not noticing the girls' polite greetings.

"Hey man," he said, taking a seat next to Sam. Tina and Rachel seemed to get more offended as they realized they were being ignored again. "Have I given you enough time?"

Sam opened his mouth to reply, but he only let out a choked breath. He felt his stomach wring itself, as though trying to drain it of any residue to feed his organs. The pain caused the colours on the walls to drip, and the recognizable room soon turned in a hall of mirrors. Sam felt himself lose control of his body, and he sensed numbness as he slid down his chair. Puck's concerned face appeared above him, covering his line of sight. But Puck's hair soon grew, and his face changed back into the one of his tormenting ex boyfriend.

"Am I... skinny enough... now?" Sam managed to breath out the words before his vision faded to black.

"Sam? ...Sam!" Blind, Sam heard a shaky voice before he drifted into unconsciousness, falling off his chair and into someone's embrace.

* * *

><p><em>Sam woke up, groggily propping himself up on an elbow. He's surrounded by trees, and he doesn't know why or how he came to be there. Waiting a few minutes for the dazed feeling to leave his bones, Sam stood up. He didn't feel hungry, which he thought was weird. He looked down. His clothes were clean. His hands had not one speck of dirt or green, even though he'd been lying in mud and grass.<em>

_At the sound of ruffling leaves, Sam turned around to see a particularly thin tree uproot itself. It soon formed, unsurprisingly, into Sebastian. _

"_How nice of you to come see me again," he grinned evilly._

"_Fuck you," Sam said through gritted teeth._

"_You tried, remember? That was hilarious..."_

_Sam lunged forward, trying to catch Sebastian's neck in his grip. He clasped his hands tightly, lifting Sebastian up off the ground._

"_This is YOUR fault," Sam yelled to a rather composed Sebastian. Even though he was caught by the collar, Sebastian's expression remained smug and knowing, as though he still had the upper hand. "You're the reason this happens! It's all YOU!"_

_Sebastian cockily cleared his throat, before sliding out of Sam's hold with impossible ease. "Wrong." He stated, picking a piece of imaginary lint of his shoulder. "The reason this happens is because you're fat, ugly, and no-one could ever like y-"_

"Sam? Can you hear me?"

_A voice echoed throughout the forest. It was gentle and calming, yet magnified. As though someone was speaking through a microphone._

"_-what was that?" Sebastian asked shrilly. It was the first time he looked uncertain ever since... ever._

"Well, I don't know if you can... but... you're skinny enough. You've always been skinny enough. It didn't even matter about how skinny you were."

_Sam's gasped in realization at who was speaking. It was Puck. Sam narrowed his eyes at Sebastian, who gasped and seemed to shrink a little._

"I'll always think you look perfect. I'll always tell you. Even when you had messy hair and morning breath, you were still beautiful to me."

_Puck's last words reverberated around Sam and Sebastian for a few seconds before it reduced to silence. Sebastian's eyes were full of panic as he tried to flee, but Sam put up a foreboding hand._

"_STOP!" He yelled, and Sebastian was pulled back by an unknown force, kicking and screaming, until he was face to face with Sam. "It. Was. You." Sam barely breathed the words, but Sebastian nodded fervently with every word. "You're the cause of my problems." Sebastian shook his head, as if trying to convince Sam otherwise._

"_No," he wheezed, "I'm not. I'm trying to help."_

"_Trying to help?" Sam scoffed, grabbing some of Sebastian's shirt with his fist. "Don't give me that shit."_

"_Seriously," Sebastian pleaded, trying to control the huffing in his breath. Once his breathing slowed to silent, Sam flexed his hand back, released Sebastian. He fell ass-first onto the ground, covering himself in dirt. Sam turned around, covering his small, haughty laugh with his hand._

"_Ha!" Sebastian proclaimed, scurrying from his position on the floor to a sprint. He was distancing himself from Sam quickly, while Sam began to sing determinedly, a triumphant tone underlying his pitch._

"I smile, you say I take your breath away... You say you love me and you make, all the right promises to break ..."

_Sam reached in the direction of Sebastian with an outstretched hand, causing an invisible wall to prevent him from escaping._

"And when I turn around you're always there, like that's the proof you really care... But I see right through you and I think to myself...

"You're just so predictable... In every way I, want you to know I know your game... It's so unbelievable, how you never change, you won't get away With loving me... You're just so predictable. "

_Sam grinned as he watched Sebastian navigate backwards from the wall, only to find another placed parallel to the first. A conniving glint appeared in his eyes, and Sebastian seductively placed his hands on the undetectable screen. He waggled his finger invitingly, trying to coax Sam to come closer. Sam slowly trudged through the muddy floor, his shoes appearing clean each time they resurfaced from the grime. He made to the wall, and Sebastian greeted him with a wink. Inclining his head towards Sam, Sebastian puckered his lips and closed his eyes, attempting to lure a kiss from his captor. Instead, a large gust of wind blew, knocking a surprised Sebastian backwards several feet._

"You know just what to do, and how to use the best of you to try and change my mind... But my eyes are opening this time, and I read you...

"You're just so predictable in every way, I want you to know I know your game, how you never change, you won't get away."

_Sam walked like a cat stalking a mouse caught in a trap. His stepped over each of his feet, hands behind his back until he reached his recovering enemy. Sebastian looked up in grief, and tried to run to his left, but found another wall. Bouncing off, he ran to the right, only to impact yet another barrier. Exhausted, he fell back into the bubbling mud, and he slowly began to sink._

"Now that I know your every move, How you gonna hide, baby, what you gonna do...  
>Now that somebody knows the truth about you and how you're just so..."<p>

_Sam walked through the unperceivable blockade to kneel beside Sebastian. He was half sunk into the mud, accepting defeat. He didn't even attempt to rise. He just laid still, eyes shaking in defeat. Smiling in victory, Sam finished his song, allowing his ex to fade from his subconscious.  
><em>  
>"You're just so predictable in every way I, want you to know I know your game... It's so unbelievable, how you never change, you won't get away with loving me. You're just so predictable..."<p>

_Jumping into the air, Sam whooped in celebration and threw up fist. His landing caused the ground beneath him to shake, and it split apart, sucking Sam down into the white vacuum that was below.  
><em>

* * *

><p>Puck rose from the side of Sam's hospital bed, walking back to his chair seated next to the sterilized bedside table. He was rather shaken, having confessed his feelings in such an effeminate way. Saying how he felt was much easier when whoever was listening was unconscious. This method allowed Puck to still seem badass; only having feelings when no one was around to scrutinize them was really working for him. And considering Sam fainted when he was asked about his, Puck had deduced Sam probably didn't want a relationship.<p>

It wasn't the first time Puck had been rejected. Countless times, countless women had denied him warmth he had so easily given them. But this was different. This was the first _guy_, and a guy Puck liked more than anyone else in the world. What made it worse is that Puck felt so confident that Sam would say yes. All the hints, and then he suddenly does a one-eighty and tries everything to make sure a relationship doesn't stem from the two. Puck shows compassion, he drives to the hospital even though he's advised to stay in school, sits by Sam's side, and he just hopes Sam won't faint again when he sees him.

Taking a deep, consoling breath, Puck began to sing softly. It was his way of soothing himself.

"_You're not alone, together we stand, I'll be by your side, you know I'll take your hand. When it gets cold and it feels like the end, there's no place to go, you know I won't give in. No, I won't give in..."_

Puck sang the words delicately, as if he might break them if he sang to loud. Sam was in need of help, and boyfriend or not, Puck had firmly decided he was going to help.

"_Keep holding on, 'cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through. Just stay strong, 'Cause you know I'm here for you, I'm here for you_

"There's nothing you could say, nothing you could do, There's no other way when it comes to the truth. So keep holding on, 'Cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through...

"_So far away, I wish you were here, Before it's too late this could all disappear Before the door's closed and it comes to an end With you by my side I will fight and defend I'll fight and defend, yeah, yeah..."_

Puck dreamt Sam would just accept the feelings he had and get with him, but apparently Sam wasn't able to. So Puck wanted to stay with him until Sam took drastic actions of restraint in order to keep his emotions under control. Who knows, from the second he wakes up, Sam might not even want to see Puck, and everything they once had would be no more.

_"Keep holding on, 'Cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through. Just stay strong, 'cause you know I'm here for you, I'm here for you. There's nothing you could say, nothing you could do, there's no other way when it comes to the truth. So keep holding on, 'cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through..._

"Hear me when I say when I say, I believe, nothing's gonna change, nothing's gonna change destiny. Whatever's meant to be will work out perfectly, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah..."

But Puck secretly hoped something would arise out of whatever happens in the future. Even though at the current moment, things looked bad for the prospect of a Spuck relationship, Puck couldn't give up all hope. After all, it wouldn't be the first time people have changed their opinions of him.

_"Keep holding on, 'cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through. Just stay strong 'cause you know I'm here for you, I'm here for you..."_

Puck was singing passionately, his eyes closed. If they were open, they would have noticed the fingers on one of Sam's hands twitch slightly.

_"There's nothing you could say, nothing you could do, there's no other way when it comes to the truth..."_

The twitch moved up to his arm, and Sam opened a droopy eye. His vision was immediately dazed, and he tried to blink the drowsiness away.

_"...So keep holding on, 'cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through..."_

Sam propped himself up on the headboard and shut his eyes, reminiscing at the sound of Puck's voice.

"_Keep holding on, Keep holding on..."  
><em>

Puck finished the song, opening his eyes once again. His relaxed appearance quickly converted to one of shock as soon as he realized Sam was staring back at him.

"Oh crap," he breathed, alarmed.

"That was... nice..." Sam said, playing with a drip that was injected into his arm. "...Am I in hospital?"

"Uh... yeah," Puck answered with a blush. He could feel the tension regarding his song, but he didn't address it. "You fainted in Glee Club. Mr. Schue called an ambulance and told us all to get back to work, but I didn't feel like it."

"So, do you know they've done to me?"

"Well, they said you're malnourished." Sam blinked at the word, as though he already knew it was coming. "And they fed you through a tube or something, I'm not sure."

"Oh," Sam replied airily. He would have been freaking out more if it wasn't for his epiphany (and the hospital's supply of whatever they were giving him).

"I just have to ask," Puck blurted, making Sam jump slightly. "I need to hear an answer. I know you fainted when I last asked you, and that probably means no, but... I still want to hear it. Please."

Sam looked at Puck's earnest look and sucked on his lips. He didn't even have to ask the question in which he had to answer. Puck looked vulnerable and weak, something he had never seen before. It was... weird. Not better or worse. Just weird.

"...Yes," Sam declared with a smile. Puck looked down at the floor, before looking up again in surprise.

"O- Wait, you said _yes_?" Puck asked in ecstatic awe. Sam shrugged, rubbing his shoulder.

"Sure... I mean, if you want to..."

"No, no- uh, I mean, yes! Duh..." Puck trailed off, staring into Sam's eyes. He returned the action, his irises gleaming with newfound hope and wonder.

* * *

><p><em>First Day of My Life <em>by _Bright Eyes_

_Predictable _by _Delta Goodrem_

_Keep Holding On_ by _Avril Lavigne_

It'd be best if you look up all these songs, because frankly I hate listening to the first one so I didn't do a good job of interpreting the lyrics. In fact, I hated it so much I didn't actually listen to the whole thing, but I imagine Puck's awesome voice would make it sound better (like it does with everything he sings).

Okay, that's done. Phew, took a while, I'm sorry, but a lot happened this chapter, and I really had to try and make it all sound construct and good... yeah, that didn't really work.

Any who, I hope everyone can understand the dream sequence. It sounded really cool in my head, it's just the transferral onto the computer that screws me over. And I kinda stopped it off there, but it's just like a commercial break in television... okay that made no sense.

And the next chapter might be even more late, because school starts again and I want to try do something with "Sam and Puck", which was my first fiction ever on !

**Please review, comment, ask questions, whatever! You can even ask on my tumblr (find the link on my profile!)**


	5. Schoolbound Picnic

Oh my God, I finally made another chapter! That's right, I'm not dead, and I have been writing multiple fictions, which is why my speed of releasing new chapters has decreased substantially.

Anywho, I hope you forgive me, I do plan to continue this fiction no matter how long I take to update. Also, maybe a heads up for the future chapters, there will be potentially be Samtana and SpucKlaine friendships (heavier PucKurt friendship). Yay, how nice!

Also, now that there are actual subjects, God knows how I am going to make this without continuity errors. And there is no AP classes where I live, so I probably won't make any of the students take them. Also, yay for a small amount of Protective!Puck

And we may or may not be in the Hospital for a lot of this fic, because I'm full of bursting happiness! Wonderful! Also I use the words smirk and smile and beam too much god I need a thesaurus. And with these new fic covers my icon is a very big turn off ew gross.

Also, introducing Sam's mother! I have no idea her true nature in the perspective of the writers, so I just based it off some of the motherly figures in my life. Hope you enjoy the humorous yet genuinely loving character Mary Evans turned out to be!

JasonDragon64

Well, you've just have to read on and find out, won't you? There's a small part in this chapter that could foreshadow your answer, but I didn't tell you ;D

ffic4life

Aw, thank you! I'm a little nervous on the subject of writing smut, but it's still a definite possibility.

SamPuck Love

Welcome, newcomer! It's already great to see people converting to Spuck; it's such an overlooked yet promising ship. Thank you for the kind words!

**And I'd just like to thank everyone that has reviewed and commented and critiqued so far - I hope my writing is improving and portraying my ideas to your liking.**

**And to everyone who hasn't yet - review! Anon or not, I love feedback (even on my tumblr)!**

**UPDATE EDIT THING**

Okay, I got one of my friends to edit this, so it should make more sense. I thought I did review it a little, but maybe I was a little too sleep-deprived. Oh well. Remember to thank Pauline for withstanding my overuse of commas everyone!

* * *

><p>Sam nervously fingered the sheets in his hospital bed, debating whether or not to share his thoughts. He and Puck had been sitting in cheery silence ever since the mutual agreement for a date.<p>

"You know, I heard you," he said, despite prior hesitation. "What you said about me, when I was asleep. I heard."

Puck's head pricked up, a blush spreading across his cheeks. "Yeah, I have feelings... you know, sometimes."

"Well, it helped," Sam replied quietly. The sheer honesty in his voice made Puck release a smile as he dipped his head. "You should tell me your feelings more often."

"I guess I will," Puck decided. A sly grin controlled his face as he rested comfortably on his chair. It was nice to know he could still be the same Puck, even with his newly exposed 'feelings'.

"Starting with your dad," Sam said bluntly, causing Puck to avoid his eye. "Your bruises have healed, but you have to do something about him."

Sam was met with silence, so he kept talking. "If your family knew about what happens, then they wouldn't stand for it. I'm in the hospital, but you need the attention."

Puck raised a pleading hand, "Stop." His fingers were shaking slightly. "This is why I don't do feelings. Talk about anything else." Sam faltered, stopping his speech and becoming thoroughly interested in his bed sheets again. Maybe he was too insensitive? He mentally kicked himself for being so socially incompetent.

Neither of the boys noticed a lingering figure spying through the glass pane on the sterilized door.

Sensing the forthcoming awkward silence, Puck spoke up. "So, for our first date, where do you want to go?"

Sam did his best to grin and forget the preceding conversation. "I don't care," he said, nearly giggling, "You pick."

"Well, I have an idea," Puck noted vaguely, scratching his stubble. "I just need to make a few arrangements."

"Sounds awesome." Sam rested against his pillow, alleviating a huge breath that was swimming in his lungs. Squinting his eyes, he tried to identify the looming shadow at the door.

"Someone's here." Puck lifted himself off his chair, "'Bout time I left anyway; school's just finished."

Sam eagerly propped himself up in his bed as Puck walked towards him. They tried to hug, but the drip in Sam's elbow made it too awkward. Settling for a handshake, Sam gripped Puck's palm a little too enthusiastically. His fingers slipped away, lacing through Puck's and making the handshake last a little longer than one should. As Puck left Room 031, Sam couldn't help but feel a little guilt. Should he have persisted with his questioning of Puck's father? It made Puck visibly uncomfortable, but the questions needed to be answered. Sam was so lost in thought he didn't notice a blonde woman approach his bed with caution.

"Sammy? Sammy?" A hand waved in front of his eyes, and Sam blinked at the motion. Looking up, he saw his Mother gazing at him with concern. "You zoned out there for a second, I didn't want you going under again."

"I'm fine, Ma," Sam clarified with a sigh.

Tapping her fingers on his bedside table, his Mother swooped in closer to his bed. A glint appeared in her eye and she grinned, "So, who's the new boo?"

"Ma!" Sam felt a blush creeping up his cheek. It was creepy how his Mum always knew.

"Please, you can't hide things from me; I'm your mother. Besides, you held that handshake for way too long. Plus you had that look in your eye, the same you have whenever you watch a shirtless Efron scene."

"Just shut up already," Sam murmured, running a hand over his face.

"Just remember not to get hurt again, Sammy" was the terse reminder he was given. "We don't plan on moving again."

"'Kay," he mumbled, not making eye contact.

"Now, onto the more important stuff: your health. What happened?"

"I dunno," Sam shrugged. He knew the answer, but refused to say it. He didn't need to be pitied by his own mother. "I fainted because of Gym or something? I don't really know…"

Patting the creases out of the sheets, Mary swallowed. "Okay, honey… but your little diagnosis at the foot of your bed says 'Malnutrition'."

"…It might have been that."

"Honey, you know you can tell me everything, and even though you don't want to, I need to know you can be healthy as well as independent."

Sam nodded stiffly, not looking his mother in the eye. Glancing at the clock on the wall, Mary let out a sigh of frustration.

"I have to get back to work now, sweety; I had to switch my lunch break to come here. I'm sure the Doctors will take care of you."

"Sure thing, Mom, see you."

Mary exited the room, smiling supportively at her son one last time. She exited the room, walking past the Receptionists Desk before she was called back by a stereotypical counterperson.

"Mrs Evans," she started, rifling through papers on her desk. "There seems to be...um, an issue with your Health Insurance."

"And what problem would that be?" Mary asked, tapping her nails against the mahogany impatiently.

"Well... You, uh, have none."

"That doesn't seem to be a problem for me."

"Yes, but with the Ambulance Call-Out Fee, and the various tests ran, your bill will be quite substantial."

Mary froze her fingers above the table's wood, tensing the muscles in her face. "How substantial?"

"Right now I can only give a rough estimate, but that will still be somewhere in few thousands."

Mary sighed, placing a hand on her chest to calm her elevating heart beat. "Oh, that's fine! I thought you were charging me a million! I'll handle the bill when it comes in the mail. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm already late for work."

And with a defiant stroll, Mary walked out of the hospital.

* * *

><p>Sam had to admit, he didn't really remember much of his time in hospital. Most of the time he was rather dazed, sitting cooperatively as nurses checked his blood pressure every hour. When he was dismissed, at seven that evening, he was surprised that his usual gnawing hunger pangs weren't there. The only advice he was given was just to eat, plain and simple, and something told him he was going to have to.<p>

"Don't worry, Doctor: I'll shovel him food while he's sleeping if he doesn't eat when he's awake," was his mother's joking-but-genuine response to the medical advice.

Sam was taken home, surrounded by supportive and loving family, who understood that he didn't want to talk about why and just accepted what had happened. Sam slept well that night, considering the day of bedrest. He was so tired he didn't even hear his mother quietly gather his father in the living room and discuss how to manage the bills. He was so tired he didn't even hear how his mother lost her job, all because she went to see her son in hospital, and how the bill would drain a good amount of their savings. But it was okay though, as his father still had his job. They didn't need to worry anyone with silly financial trifles such as this for now.

* * *

><p>Waking up in the morning, Sam was surprised that his stomach was lacking its usual guttural groan of hunger. It didn't feel normal and he couldn't stomach the feeling of guilt he had for actually eating.<p>

It felt even weirder to arrive at school with not a single hunger pang after eating a considerable amount of breakfast. But the weirdest was the feeling he got when Puck strolled over to his locker. He just sat there and watched him retrieve his books with a dreamy look in his eye.

"Hey," Puck said as Sam shut his locker with a bang.

"Hey," he breathed. The two walked with their shoulders glued together. Puck's face had his usual smirk, while Sam was trying to mask a threatening blush. "We have double geometry together - where's your stuff?"

"I... may have sold them for dr- drums. After guitar I've always wanted to play drums."

With a sly grin, Sam replied. "I'm sure Finn would be happy to teach yo-"

"No."

Walking into their geometry lesson just in time, the two took adjacent tables at the back. Sam retrieved his worksheets from his folder as Puck grafittied his table with a pin (which was conveniently left on the floor). Sam stared at the tasks hopelessly, unable to comprehend the incoherent numbers on his paper. Drumming a pencil between his hands, he tried to plot his thoughts in chance that it might help him understand, but it didn't. With a sigh, he shifted in his seat to try and gain his teachers attention before remembering he had Mr. Plight, the only teacher worse at learning than he was. Giving up, Sam crossed his arms on his table. It created the perfect nook for his head, also giving the perfect perspective of Puck trying to engrave words on the maple wood. Being dyslexic sucked, especially when you wanted to learn. It was a frustrating paradox, one that made him want to rip his hair out and rage against a wall.

"Hey, what's up?" Puck seemed to notice how disheartened he was, as he turned to face an abashed Sam.

"Just a little stuck with this maths stuff," he replied.

"What exactly?" Puck shuffled his chair closer to Sam, spreading his worksheets about.

"Uhm, the deductive geometry has me a little... confused," Sam admitted.

"Oh, that's easy: I can help," Puck offered, making Sam blink in surprise. "What question?"

"All of them." The laugh Puck interjected lessened Sam's embarrassment immensely. It wasn't condescending, but more understanding (and a little cute, too).

"Well, it's easy: first you have to show that the triangles are similar by showing they're equiangular, then you have to divide the two respective sides to find x. Here," Puck slipped his hand into Sam's, snaking back out with his pencil enclosed firmly in his hand. Sam watched intensely as Puck drew diagrams, showing the equal angles with full working out. Once he finished the demonstration, he laid the pencil down with content.

"Make sense?"

"Yeah, a lot more than before," Sam thanked, a small smile twitching his mouth upwards. "But where'd you get 'x + 6' from?"

"Simple; the diagram shows that one side of the smaller triangle is six, and that the line continues for the larger triangle, with the leftover length being x. That means the larger triangles side must be 'x+6'."

Sam stared in bewilderment. "How do you know this?"

Puck shrugged. "Maths is easy for me."

"But I've never seen you do any homework," Sam gaped.

"Don't need to - homework is for chumps." Sam's smile faltered, making Puck soften. "I can still help you with yours though."

* * *

><p>With the unexpected tutoring of Puck, Sam returned to his locker with newfound confidence and relief. He slotted his books in before staring at the food he was ordered to pack for recess. He jumped as a comforting hand rested on his shoulder.<p>

"Relax, man. You should eat."

Puck reached over Sam, withdrawing an apple and trail mix from the locker. "This is bird food," he muttered, "But I still want you to eat it." Placing the provisions in his hand, Puck guided Sam to the cafeteria, growling at some insignificant freshmen to clear a table (and to scare them into giving him food).

Sam looked around nervously, trying to distinguish if he had legitimate reasons for being paranoid. He didn't. "Are you going to just... sit here and watch me?" Sam asked, bracing himself for something he didn't know.

"No. We're going to talk and eat and you'll have fun." He smiled, "I promise."

And they did.

* * *

><p>Sam and Puck finished their recess together as the bell went, parting ways. Sam sauntered through the corridors that lead to his locker until being interrupted by Santana.<p>

"Hey there, Lips," she smirked.

"What?"

"I think we have to call it off."

"Call what off?"

"The beard, you twit. At least try," she responded dryly. "I saw you at recess, with Puck and all. I don't think he'd appreciate sharing you emotionally - maybe in a threeway, but you can't be in a supposed relationship with him chasing your tail."

To be honest, Sam had somewhat repressed his agreement to the false relationship, so he stared blankly as Santana continued to ramble.

"And I'm going to see what I can do with my situation," she informed with a sigh. "I might be able to coax Britt if I promise to push her in a stroller all day."

Sam chuckled, "Good Luck."

"You too." With an appreciative smile, Santana turned and fluttered away, leaving Sam only for him to be stopped again by Miss Pillsbury.

"What now?" He asked with slight irritation, immediately regretting it as Miss Pillsbury awkwardly avoided eye contact.

"Sorry, Sam. Samuel?"

"Sam's fine," he cringed.

"Will you come visit me in my office? Don't worry about classes for now." Emma smiled as Sam instantly relaxed at the mention of missing his English class. Walking to her office, Emma opened the door with a handkerchief before allowing Sam to sit. Walking around her desk, she primly rested on the edge of her chair, engaging in conversation.

"So, is there anything you want to discuss?" She gazed at him expectantly, her hands neatly in her lap.

"Um, what?" Sam asked, making Miss Pillsbury twitch.

"Oh? I thought - didn't your parents...?" Shaking her hands slightly, she gained her composure. "Well, I'm sure you remember your little... visit to the hospital earlier this week, so I've organized for you and me to talk once or twice a week, just to help with everything."

"So it's therapy?" Sam said evenly. To be frank, he was surprised he wasn't hounded by people for details before. Not even Santana inquired about anything (but she could have easily been distracted by the moment of pure fluff he shared with Puck in the cafeteria).

"Not a therapist," Miss Pillsbury clucked, "Counsellor."

"But I don't want- I don't need therapy."

"Sam, sweety." Emma leaned forward, placing her hands palm-up on her desk. "This isn't therapy, and even though you may not want to admit it - there's usually a reason someone starves themselves. And I want you to know that there's absolutely _nothing_ that should be forcing you to resort to starvation."

Sam tried to suppress the burning he felt behind his eyes as he concentrated on the perfectly aligned pamphlets dressing the desk. Sensing she was close to eroding Sam's deflection, Emma curled her hands back into her lap. She didn't want to force Sam into a nervous breakdown - that wouldn't be moral. She had to let him see that it wasn't okay to feel how he did.

"I have an idea," she exclaimed, forcing Sam to return eye contact. "You're in glee club, right? You could utilize a song, and then sing it in Glee! Come on, it'll be fun!" Emma portrayed an encouraging smile to try and waver Sam's somewhat hesitant expression. "If you want, you can stay and talk about anything you'd like or you can go and think of the song you'd like to sing."

Sam ran his hands along his thighs with a sigh, "Can I maybe just think of a song?" Taking the nod he received as a permit to leave, he exited the Counselor's Office as Miss Pillsbury made sure her pencils were equidistant.

* * *

><p>Turning a corner, Sam ran a hand through his hair. He was surprised to see his session with Miss Pillsbury lasted for almost forty minutes. It was pointless to show up for his class now, so he settled for wandering the deserted halls. He was anxious about Miss Pillsbury's concept of pouring his feelings to the rest of the Glee Club. She had come about it so lightly, he didn't think she properly understood the gravity of it all. Sure, Rachel was known for verbally showing her feelings through music, but it wasn't as easy for him. He was slightly puzzled at why no one had actually quizzed him on what had happened - maybe people were scared of upsetting him? Or maybe the rumors were so far fetched they contorted him into something to be avoided.<p>

Yet to be honest, the thought of revealing the problems that dwell in the darkest corner of his mind to all was something he'd like to do. To see reactions to the fact that, the supposedly at peace Sam Evans had a dark side, would be amusing. Suddenly, a contender for Miss Pillsbury's song floated through his mind and he started to sing.

"_There's a place that I know, it's not pretty there and few have ever gone._" The words passed through his lips barely above a whisper as he walked towards a classroom. Peering through the window pane in the door, he spied Puck, lazing about as usual.

"_If I show it to you now, will it make you run away..._" The thought of showing the incoherent wires in his brain to his classmates was appealing, the faces etched in sympathy and wonder, understanding that they could never comprehend him. But what if they acted differently? What if they laughed or called him weak. What if they returned with their own heartfelt story, of more intensity than his own? Or Puck. What would he do? Would he instantly detach himself; would he just leave?

"_Or will you stay? Even if it hurts? Even if I try to push you out, Will you return?_" Sam knew what he wanted. The ideal reaction would be for everyone to heed him and help him. As bad and as self-centered as it was, Sam wanted the reassurance that some people in his life would always be there, no matter his backlash.

"_And remind me who I really am, Please remind me who I really am..._

"_Everybody's got a dark side, do you love me? Can you love mine? Nobody's a picture perfect, but we're worth it, you know that we're worth it._" Sam just hoped Puck could see him, his raw feelings and not be frightened. In the time that was to come, he pleaded to whatever supernatural forces were out there that Puck could love something that was him.

"_Will you love me? Even with my dark side?_" Leaving his mark, Sam continued down the hallways, immersed in his thoughts. He could easily lose it all, being in his position. Secret relationships aren't easy, apparently. He would like nothing more to scream his affection at the top of his lungs, but he was scared of retribution. Overwhelmed, he leaned against a locker, sliding down until he was hugging his knees.

"_Don't run away, don't run away, just tell me that you will stay.. Promise me you will stay._" A small tear trickled down Sam's cheek. He didn't want to ruin another relationship. He didn't want to be stranded again. He couldn't take that again. More tears began to flow and his voice hitched slightly.

"_Don't run away, don't run away, just promise me you will stay... Promise me you will stay._" Warning him of the impending wave of students, the school bell chimed. Sam rose and dried his eyes within seconds, preparing to mask his emotions and get his History books as he always did.

* * *

><p>"Hey," Kurt said, turning to face Sam after their History teacher stopped talking. "Why weren't you in English?"<p>

"Miss Pillsbury wanted to talk," he shrugged, "Something about yesterday."

Kurt stiffened slightly. "What did happen yesterday? Everyone's too scared to ask, but it's listed as the Number One on Jacob Ben Israel's blog."

"I passed out."

Kurt tutted. "We all knew that much, but why?"

"There's no real reason," Sam said evenly, staring down at his notes.

"Sam," Kurt reminded, "People don't just faint. Don't be scared to tell me why."

Kurt's words rang familiar to Miss Pillsbury's, causing Sam to blink back tears again.

Sensing the discomfort, Kurt tried to placate him. "If you don't want to talk about it, then I'm sorry."

Sam nodded, scared he might sniffle if he spoke and returned to his work.

* * *

><p>After a double lesson of hiding his emotions yet again, Sam shouldn't have been so surprised to find Jacob scouting for him by his locker.<p>

"Sam!" He yelled, running to him and shoving a voice recorder in his face. "Rumor has it you fainted in Glee. Want to tell us why?"

Sam scrunched his face, waving the recorder away from his mouth.

"People are saying you fainted due to getting a tattoo as an initiation into a witches clan. Is-!" A powerful fist slammed down on a locker in warning, making Jacob stop his bantering and turn to see a very intimidating Puck.

"Israel," he warned, slowly stalking over to him. "Leave Sam alone or else I'll shove your little voice memo thing somewhere where you can listen to your bowel movements!"

Jacob trembled under Puck's glare before fleeing. "Thanks," Sam said feebly.

"Pleasure's mine," Puck replied with a smirk, "Now get your lunch."

"Are we eating together?" Sam asked as he retrieved food from his locker.

"You bet." Puck mirrored Sam's grin, "Under the bleachers this time."

* * *

><p>"This is strangely romantic," Sam said, as he ducked under the stands. A checkered picnic blanket was laid out for both of them to sit on. "I wasn't expecting this."<p>

"I can be romantic if I want to," Puck affirmed, smoothing out a crease in the blanket.

"What if someone sees us?" Sam asked, paranoidly darting his head in all directions.

"Got it covered!"

Sam jerked his head in the direction of the high-pitched voice, easily recognizing the sound.

"Oh, it's just Kurt," he exhaled in relief.

Kurt must have been sitting just outside of view as he extended a hand into the opening, his fingers forming an "okay" sign. "Just pretend I'm not even here."

"I know you just brang your own lunch - something undeniably rabbit-like-" Puck crumpled his nose at the tuna salad Sam had brought "-but I still have stuff to share. Kurt!" he called, and an arm stretched back into view, this time holding (what was assumed to be) food packaged in white paper.

"Is that..." Sam didn't finish his sentence, instead letting the unfamiliar scent of grease end it for him.

"Chips," Puck nodded, peeling the corners of the paper to reveal a large pile of deep-fried potatoes. "Don't deny they taste awesome."

"I won't, but they're -urp- fattening," Sam gagged.

"Come on," Puck said, popping one into his mouth, "Just try one." Sam shuffled away from the steamy pile of carbohydrates, shaking his head in refusal.

"Maybe... we can make it a game." Puck lied down on the floor, looking up at Sam as he traced a circle on the floor with a finger. Sam raised an eyebrow. "Eat some chips now and I'll eat something else _later_." The contract made Sam drop his jaw and Kurt release an uncomfortable cough from wherever he was. "So... wanna eat?" Puck picked up a chip from the pile and sucked on it.

Luring Sam closer with a wiggle of his finger, Puck watching intently as Sam shuddered. Leaning over to clasp Sam's hand, he guided it to the pile of chips then let go as Sam brought it to his lips.

Seeing Puck nodding in encouragement, Sam closed his eyes and forced his jaw down, chewing for longer than necessary. Swallowing, his eyelids fluttered open to see a beaming Puck.

"Another!" he cheered.

Beside himself, Sam couldn't suppress a smirk as he began to eat something that was unhealthy for the first time in months.

It didn't take long for the soggy tuna salad to lay forgotten and the pile of chips to reduce to salt residue. Declining backwards and resting on his palms, Puck felt accomplished. "Now, that wasn't so hard."

Giggling, Sam crawled over to him and shared a passionate kiss. He placed a hand at the nape of Puck's neck and pulled him closer, even though their bodies were already rubbing together. Withdrawing from the contact, Sam puckered his lips. "Thanks," he crooned.

"I live to please," Puck replied, getting up and dusting himself off. Helping Sam from the ground the two tried to will away the blood that had pooled downwards, heading back to the school building as the bell rang.

* * *

><p>The song used was <em>Dark Side<em> by _Kelly Clarkson_

Well, that's it for this chapter. It may be just a little shorter than the others, but I felt it was right to stop it here. There also may be a little shock at the severity of Mary's punishment for not being at work (I mean, she did organize to shift her lunch break and everything), but there's a reason for that. It's just not relevant; only its aftermath is. I hope I'm doing everyone's expectations justice, and I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter, again, sorry for the long wait!

**Please review, comment, and critique! I will plant seeds of happy dreams in your sleeps for reviews!**


	6. Lakeside Luxury

Okay, I hope chapter 6 is finished. Actually I think it is. Yay!

I have some things I want to say first about this fiction (if anyone actually cares):

They will probably have shorter chapters now. This is because I am lacking in imagination and this is a way I can still post stories in spans of time that aren't overly ridiculously long.

Declining quality may also be a little bit annoying to some, because I feel I'm not writing my best. God I just plain suck at this my cries I can't-

And I am going to start trying to address Puck's relationship with his father, because, you know, the angst and all...

I hope you can look past how my horrible skills affected this piece and can enjoy this writing!

* * *

><p>Punching numbers into his phone, Puck pressed the receiver to his ear. The dial tone quickly turned into a greeting.<p>

"Puck!" Laura screamed enthusiastically. "Tonight's the big night! Have you got everything ready?"

"Yes, I do," he laughed. "Guitar Laura's in place, I just wanted to check that you haven't bailed-"

"Bailed? Never! I have to see this Sam, and confirm he's good enough for you."

"...He's hot, if that's what you're asking."

"Oh." Laura's voice became distant as she pulled away from the speaker. "Yasmin! He is hot!"

A swift and excited "I knew it! Yay!" was the response, and Laura returned her attention back to the phone.

"Oh, and Yasmin's gonna help me with the chauffeuring. We promise not to embarrass you."

Puck could hear her voice drip with sarcasm. "Try all you want, I'll just bring up that time you drank toilet water-"

"You wouldn't-"

"Or when you ate that fly-"

"THAT ONE WAS AN ACCIDE-"

"Or that time when you were caught-"

"See you at six!"

Grinning as the line went dead, Puck began preparing for his date.

* * *

><p>"Noah? What are you doing?" Ruth's voice echoed as she walked into the kitchen, witnessing her son vigorously whisking a yellow mixture.<p>

"Cooking," he grunted, increasing his speed.

"Cooking what?"

"Quiche," he said, ceasing his whisking and pouring the batter into a tray lined with pastry.

"Why?"

"Date." The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them. With a sigh, he let the inevitable follow as he slipped the quiche into the oven.

"A date? You don't normally go all out for a date," Ruth remarked. "Normally you just sneak wine coolers from the cabinet and replace them when you get back."

Smirking, he replied. "I thought I hid my tracks. But this time is different - he is someone special."

Ruth froze, her lips curling upwards. "He?"

Sweat formed on Puck's brow. He swallowed a daunting breath, trying to will his arms not to shake. "Yeah," he verified. Puck couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with his mother, instead looking at his foot toeing the ground. He tried to address the question that hadn't been asked. "Is that a problem?"

"Problem?" Ruth scoffed. "Please, I don't care who you like." She coughed, realizing the unintentional harshness of her words. "You know I'll love you no matter who you're with."

"Thanks, Ma," he muttered, letting the avoirdupois of his worry leave him.

"Unless he's an ass, then I'd rather you just go back to womanizing."

"He's not an ass, Ma," he reassured as Ruth left the room. "...He just has a great one."

* * *

><p>Sam anxiously waited outside his house, sitting on the steps to the front porch. He nervously flattened his hair and checked his clothing for the umpteenth time. He didn't know how he managed to sit there for so long with a stony expression, but he'd have to postpone his feelings for the sake of this night. When a car slowly came to a stop in front of his house, his face brightened as Puck stepped out of the back seat. He stood up as Puck walked up to greet him.<p>

"Ready for our date?" Puck smiled. "I planned it perfectly, just so you know."

"That sounds great," Sam said, laughing to cope with his anxiety. "Let's go!"

Walking to the car, Puck couldn't help but notice something odd. "So, why were you waiting outside?"

"Oh, I- I was just that eager," Sam joked.

Puck raced ahead of Sam and opened the car door for him, flashing a grin that piqued Sam's cupidity. Sliding into the furthest seat, he jumped in shock as two heads twisted from their spots in the front to see him. He blinked at their judgemental expression, sucking in his gut.

"Um, Puck," he called out, "Am I in the right car?"

"Yeah," Puck confirmed, jumping in the seat beside Sam. He pulled the door shut with an unnecessary bang.

"Sam, meet Laura and Yasmin. You don't have to remember their names - they're just our chauffeurs."

"I beg your pardon," Laura said, with overacted poise. "My name is fabulous, so you better remember it."

"And we see why Puck always talks about you," Yasmin smirked, giving him a onceover. "I approve."

"Just shut up and drive," Puck laughed. Sensing Sam's awkwardness, he casually slung his arm over his shoulder. Sam, not comfortable around the new bystanders (even though they were having their own separate debate in the front of the car), just smiled and dipped his head, trying to avoid staring at the back of Laura and Yasmin's seats. "They'll seem kind of weird when you first get to know them," Puck explained in a murmur, jerking his head to the people in question. "But they're great once they're 'll love them soon enough."

Sam smiled, his anxiety melting with the friction of Puck rubbing his arm. He shifted the position of his feet, accidentally kicking a basket that was on the floor. "What's this?" he asked, unable to suppress a grin.

"That's our dinner," Puck said, grinning as the car rolled to a stop. "Right on cue." Grabbing Sam's hand in his and the basket in the other, the two exited the vehicle. "Eight o'clock!" Puck reminded to their drivers, yelling in order to be heard over the enthusiastic beeping.

"Are we at the park?" Sam questioned, following Puck's lead. At night, the usually vibrant grass transformed into an unfamiliar dew frosted scene. Trying to ignore the fact that this was how most of his horror movies started, Sam trudged beside his date, sticking to him as he sifted through a condensed field of trees. He thought they were lost until the foliage thinned and a private lake setting came into view. "Wow," he marveled, taking in the how the moonlight shimmered off the calm, undulating water. The trees broke the wind, allowing them to be in peaceful weather. The serenity of the whole scene made Sam content in just staring at the landscape, its tranquil vibe melting his worries.

"Are you going to sit down?" It seemed Puck had managed to lay a blanket and his basket while Sam's thoughts had wandered elsewhere.

Sam walked slowly, settling across from Puck, his eyes still distracted. "It's beautiful," he breathed.

"Thanks," Puck said, taking nature's credit. He turned to appreciate it as well. "This is where I go when I want to be alone. Not many people know it's here, so it's kind of special."

"Who's seen it?" Sam asked, finally turning his head back to Puck, though it took effort.

"Only you. I'm glad you dig it." Sam hid a snigger. He found it odd that something so breathtaking was referred to in such a way, but then again, that was probably high praise. "Now shut up about the scenery and lets eat." Puck disrupted the peaceful silence with the rustling that accompanied his movements. He flipped the lid of the basket, spread plates, cutlery and food between them. Sams silent apprehension faded as his consciousness approved the nourishment laid before him. Accepting the moderate slice of quiche Puck sliced him, Sam took a tentative bite.

"Wow! This tastes great!" He had always felt slightly guilty whenever he enjoyed food, but the ecstatic grin Puck radiated seemed to dismiss all remorse.

"I made it myself," he replied, the bottom half of his face now set into a permanent, genuine smile.

"Where did you learn to cook so well?" Judging by Puck's thrilled expression, Sam believed Puck's skill in the kitchen was one he was dying to bestow upon others.

"I just follow recipes," Puck shrugged. Though he tried to act modest, it was easily seen that he took the compliment with possessive smugness. "There's nothing to it."

"Are you kidding? I burn cereal." Puck snorted with laughter, threatening to spray Sam with quiche.

The rest of the main course was finished with nothing more than the scraping of forks against plates. The silence was not full, as the two stole precious glances and cute grins throughout. Licking his fork clean, Sam exhaled in satisfaction. He looked at Puck gratefully, not being able to remember the last time he felt so full. "That was delicious."

Puck raised an eyebrow, a smirk crawling across his lips. "But there's more."

"Dessert?" Sam grinned knowingly.

"Dessert," Puck confirmed. His hand dug into the basket, this time retrieving two punnets of strawberries, leaves already cut, and a bowl of melted chocolate. Puck placed the bowl in Sam's hands.

"How is this still warm?!" Sam gawked. He cupped his hands, amazed at the gentle heat radiating from the white concave.

"That's a secret." Puck opened a punnet with a pop, sliding the blanket, and whoever was on top of it, to face the lake. He sat down beside Sam, raking in the view of his secret hideout.

"This is perfect," Sam said, propping himself on his forearms. Puck dipped his strawberry into the chocolate and fed it to Sam.

"It gets better." And as if on cue, the hundreds of tiny fireflies that were cloaked by darkness illuminated themselves. Above the lake, they added to the luminous and magical atmosphere, sticking to the inside of the water's perimeter and glowing amorously. "Told ya."

"Wow." Sam's eyes glazed over, immersed in the illustration in front of him. "Loro yuey."

"What?" Puck asked absentmindedly, coating another strawberry.

"Oh, nothing," Sam dismissed, allowing Puck's fingers to split his lips and push the fruit in his mouth. Smacking his lips, Sam asked, "Where did you become friends Laura and Yasmin?"

"Well-" Puck licked excess chocolate from his fingertips "- I met Yasmin from Fight Club. The girl is crazy tough, and through her I met Laura. They're anything but normal - but that's why they're so great." By the way Puck sighed, Sam could tell how much he cared for the two. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy tickle his spine.

"Cool," Sam replied, nodding. He twitched as he felt Puck's fingers entwine with his. His fear subsiding, Sam let his more affectionate emotions take its place. He looked up, drawn to the intense gaze of Pucks deep hazel eyes. Seconds later their lips collided, the atmosphere of affection overthrown by lust. Sam was almost desensitized by the speed of how things progressed, and once he recovered he gently separated Puck's lips from his jaw.

"I can't," he apologized. "Not today. Sorry." Sam sat rather rigid, a sense of awkwardness clouding his thought. Puck's arm fell limp to his side, and he exhaled a breath. It was more one of adoration than frustration. He pondered on his thoughts before setting a voice to them.

"You know," he started casually, "If a girl turned me down I would have got really crammy. But with you... I'm kind of fine just watching the fireflies and not getting any." Sam blushed, placing his hands in his lap. His thumbs twiddled with nervous thoughts. "I guess we have time for one song."  
>Puck stood up, walking to a hollow tree and retrieving his guitar from its trunk. "I had Laura take me here to bring Laura here before. It's Laura-ception. And I called the tree Fiona for some reason. But I'm just glad no one came here and stole it, and I'm not sure why I wanted it in the tree - for dramatic effect or something-"<p>

Sam stifled a giggle. "Just shut up and sing."

Rolling his eyes, Puck began to strum chords until he was playing a full song. Sam grinned, biting his lip to retain his anticipation. He knew the song - he had it recited from memory when it first came out. It was probably the subconscious-at-the-time crush he had on its original singer.

_"I don't want another pretty face..._  
><em>I don't want just anyone to hold...<em>  
><em>I don't want my love to go to waste...<em>  
><em>I want you and your beautiful soul..."<em>

Puck twirled around the blanket in time with the music, and Sam twisted his head to maintain his view.

_"I know that you are something special..._  
><em>To you I'd be always faithful...<em>  
><em>I want to be what you always needed...<em>  
><em>Then I hope you'll see the heart in me..."<em>

Puck, behind his smiling stage face, was hoping that Sam was receiving the message embedded in the song. It was a simple one, really, and hopefully it was obvious. Sam had a "beautiful soul," even with Puck's obvious bias. He couldn't really fathom where all these body image issues were popping up from: with a friend like Finn, Sam really couldn't think of himself anything but completely ripped. And he was. But he didn't see it. Which just didn't make any sense.

_"You might need time to think it over..._  
><em>But I'm just fine moving forward...<em>  
><em>I'll ease your mind...<em>  
><em>If you give me the chance...<em>  
><em>I will never make you cry c`mon let's try..."<em>

Something in the last line triggered a pause in Sam. For some reason, a simple arrangement of words made his split grin face turn to a thoughtful line. Apparently Puck noticed too, as his guitar playing faltered, so Sam rubbed an eye with his hand and returned to smiling.

_"Am I crazy for wanting you...?_  
><em>Maybe do you think you could want me too...?<em>  
><em>I don't wanna waste your time...<em>  
><em>Do you see things the way I do...?<em>  
><em>I just wanna know that you feel it too...<em>  
><em>There is nothing left to hide..."<em>

Puck didn't realize how a pop song could have such a deep meaning. You know, once he actually analyzed the lyrics he was singing. The relevance was somewhat shocking, and he hoped he could brave through Sam's cemented self-esteem and show him how good he really was.

_"I don't want another pretty face..._  
><em>I don't want just anyone to hold...<em>  
><em>I don't want my love to go to waste...<em>  
><em>I want you and your beautiful soul...<em>  
><em>You're the one I wanna chase...<em>  
><em>You're the one I wanna hold...<em>  
><em>I won't let another minute go to waste..."<em>

Puck knelt on the floor and locked eyes with Sam, weighting his voice with sincerity.

_"I want you and your beautiful soul."_

Puck just managed to swing his guitar safely onto his back before Sam cupped his cheeks and guided him into a kiss full of love and thanks. The kiss was chaste, yet affectionate, with a salty taste Puck couldn't quite comprehend. Pulling back, he easily identified the taste as tears. Wiping a stray one from his boyfriend's cheek, he looked perplexed. "Don't cry."

Sam laughed, sniffles hitching his breath. "I don't even know why I am." He took a restorative breath and combed his hair away from his face, jerking forward as he felt a hand soothe his back.

"Sorry," Puck apologized, looking docilely at the floor. "I'm not the best at comforting people."

Sam laughed again, gripping the fleece he was sitting on. He leaned back into the hand ghosting his back and was silent for a few minutes, letting his breathing return to normal. Puck didn't know whether or not to break the apparently rehabilitating silence. He began tracing circles on Sam's back, which turned into a gentle drumming as time passed.

After a while his idleness got the better of him, tackling Sam into his embrace, and they rolled together on the blanket. "Feeling better?" he asked, resting his jaw on Sam's shoulder.

"Yeah," Sam giggled, arms immobilized at his side.

"I don't actually know why I'm spooning you, because we were supposed to get picked up fifteen minutes ago."

"Aw," Sam pouted, "Can't we just stay for a little bit. Like this?" he sighed, lolling his head back onto Puck's chest.

"Hmmmm," Puck wondered, tightening his grip around Sam. "Okay."

* * *

><p>Puck exited the car, walking around it to open Sam's door.<p>

"Thanks," he blushed. "I had the best time."

"Yeah," Puck smiled, "me too."

"I'll see you at school on Monday."

"A whole three days?" he said, moue with puppy dog eyes.

Sam laughed, leaning in to kiss Puck. He noticed the somewhat obtrusive stares from his drivers and decided on an intimate hug instead. "Thanks."

"You said that already," Puck grinned, "I'll walk you to the door."

"Oh," Sam flushed, "That's okay. I forgot my keys so I have to jump the fence." He began hastily walking up the stone path to the side gate. He unlatched it, and entered without a backwards glance. He waited for some time, just pacing outside in the backyard, waiting until the gentle purr of an engine drifted away.

Sam waited a little longer after that before slipping back out the gate and walking down the street.

He walked, without a phone or watch to remind him of the time, with a somewhat detached face. The crunch of broken glass under his shoes and the smell of tobacco alerted Sam to his location before his sight did. Walking up the steps to Room 9 of the Ohio House Motel, Sam jammed his key in the lock and entered the room that was now his home.

* * *

><p>Okay, well, if this doesn't sound horrible. I tried FEELINGS, and oh how I didn't make it work.<br>Puck can cook. Who could've guessed. It's somewhat inspired from nubianamy's amazing work because I'm reading all of her stories and they're just so amazing it's like a real book it's so perfect it makes me wanna cry  
>Anyway, I split this into two, because originally there was going to be another scene but that is for the next chapter. Uhm but yes I think I have lost my writing talent (even though there was barely any of it in the first place) BUT BECAUSE THERE AREN'T MANY SPUCK FICTIONS ON FF RIGHT NOW I GUESS I'LL KEEP WRITING GOD FORBID I love you all please don't hate me for writing such a horrible story for such an amazing pair <p>


	7. Homeless and Helpless

Yay look I have a chapter. Chapter Seven!

This chapter was inspired by the events of Missing Him by SilverTwenty, which after reading I just had to incorporate somehow because asdfghjkl I just loved it so much.

Anywho, I should explain that Puck's Dad won't have a name, just to avoid confusion. I have a small subplot as to why Puck doesn't like Noah and it has something to do with that.

But now I will thank my extra special sexy beta Andy for making my work readable everyone should remember to love him extra much.

I may not post again for a while because I think I have a plot for the Seven Deadly Sins Glee idea and I want to flesh it out somewhat.

I forgot to answer peoples review because I am a naughty boy

Guest

Aw, that is such a compliment! Find me on tumblr so we can be friends!

number one gleek

that is a very good symptom of the fandom

jasondragon64

aw, thank you! I did like the song, and thanks for always reviewing! You're a blessing!

Whitesman35

Thank you, it means a lot!

babycakes12

haha, I wouldn't dream of it! Thank you for the review!

**Warning:** Major Angst (probably should have put that in before)

**Please read, comment, critique, and review. I will love you and give you marshmallows**

* * *

><p>Puck stayed cemented on Sam's porch for a while, trying to figure out what had just happened. Failing to make sense of the situation, he sighed and returned to the car.<p>

"Why didn't he give you a little lip candy?" Yasmin asked, pulling away from the curb. "You took so long in the park we thought you were doing it."

"I don't know," Puck replied, unable to hide the sad confusion in his voice, "it was probably because of you two." Neither of his chauffeurs answered, instead giving tense nods. They knew this side of Puck well, and right now the best thing they could do was give him space.

He made eye contact with Laura in the rear-view mirror and gave her a weak smile to show his thanks.. She gave a compassionate smile in return, allowing Puck to dwell in his thoughts.

His main concern was for Sam. His _only_ concern was for Sam. Did he not like date? With all the detailed planning, Puck was certain that he would have enjoyed it. And thinking back, Sam did enjoy it - either that or he was really good at faking happiness.

Yet something did seem amiss. Sam guiltily rejected all the advances that were thrown at him. Puck knew from their first time that Sam would need a push or three, but this time his body language slumped and was completely unresponsive. With his research in the field of persuading someone to take their pants off, he could class Sam as someone who was willing, but needed urging. Maybe he pushed too hard? The thought of that made him cringe with self-reproach.

It had taken Puck days of careful chasing to finally secure Sam. Maybe now he was regretting it? What if Sam had agreed to this date just to get Puck off his back? In retrospect, he was basically ambushed for an answer while regaining consciousness in a hospital bed. Was he being led on? He clamped his jaw. Things didn't add up, and it was frustrating. Who would lead the Puckerman on? And why? As much he'd hate to admit it, Puck was head over heels. He'd even exposed his sanctuary - and on the first date. His jaw tightened. He had broadcasted his soft side to someone who could be rejecting it. That would leave a serious dent in the badass that was a Puckerman. With the jolt of the car, Puck realized that he was home. Still fairly distant, he thanked Laura and Yasmin and exited.

"Call us if you need anything," Yasmin said earnestly. Puck nodded. They seemed to understand the implied boundaries, which he was grateful for. He waved as they drove off, waiting for the car to melt into the horizon before receding into the house. He slid through the front door quietly, when the sound of hushed voices were muted by a roar. A burly figure filled up the living room doorway, his hand gripping the wall before sliding to the light switch.

"My son!" He bellowed, with a demented grin. There was no alcohol on him, but his breath revealed that it was _in _him. He stepped forward, and Puck stood his ground, anticipating what was next. He didn't know his dad was home - if he had, then he wouldn't have returned. "My son! Where you have you been!" His words dripped with sarcasm, weighting him so he slouched.

"I've just been out," Puck said. He tried to maintain the distance between the two, matching his father step for step until he was against the door. His father was still advancing, until they were nose to nose.

"_I_ know where _you've_ been," he whispered, spitting saliva with every syllable. He grabbed Puck, lifting him by the throat. Puck closed his eyes, not daring to kick forward, trying to find something to grip on the wall.

"Daddy, stop it!" Sarah's small figure ghosted behind them, her white knuckles clenching a headless doll. Ruth appeared in front of her, guarding her with bloodshot eyes. They could have stayed silent for all the difference they made.

"You've been with your _boyfriend_." The last word was held, rasping in its length. Puck opened an eye to see a fist fill his vision, smashing against his jaw. The force knocked him to the floor. His dad hoisted him up, throwing him against the door.

"Stop! _Stop!_" Ruth screamed, but her words could only do so much from the doorway. She looked as if she wanted to pry the two apart, but a distinct cut on her cheek halted her. She was ignored.

"You have a boyfriend." The sentence was stated calmly, but the tightening fingers around Puck's throat revealed the vehemence behind it. "A _boyfriend._" The fingers clenched, becoming tighter. Puck choked, unable to breathe. He tried to kick, to flail - to anything. He grasped the door handle and twisted it, tumbling on the front porch. "Thank you for doing the honors," his father spat. "Go back to your _boyfriend_ - I'm sure _he_ wants to see you."

Puck had no time to register what happened - he was still trying to regain his breath. His life was surreal. The bang of the door slamming shut was sharpl, as were the fingers of his father that he could still feel clenched around the rag that was his neck. He wanted to stay put, try to and work out what the hell came to pass, but he had to move. So he walked.

The adrenaline slowly ebbed away, and Puck wiped blood away from his cheek, sourced from a cut he had just located. How did his dad know? There was only one answer - his mom. She told him - but why? And why did she let him bash the fuck out her son, right in front of her?

He held his head in his hands, trying to keep his skull from bursting open. Did anyone love him? Sam seemed distant on the date, and Ruth almost let her husband get away with murder. He frantically fetched his phone from his pocket - the light from it was duller now. He searched through his contacts - looking for someone who would care.

Sam? Doubt it.

Mom? Please.

Laura? Yasmin?

Sam again? He stopped, pondering, then clicking dial. What did he have to lose? Not much could get worse now. He waited with heavy breath. Where would he start? What would he tell him? He prepared his words for the end of the dial tone - which never came. He waited patiently for a minute, expecting a panting Sam answer, but none did.

Puck faced the fact: no one cared. He threw the phone down on the pavement, smashing it beyond repair. Angry tears leaked from his eyes, mixing with smeared blood. No one cares about Puck - he's tough, independent, he can handle himself. But not his time. He needed someone - someone to anchor his depression, to stop him from completely breaking down. But no one was there. It was the worst feeling in the world: needing someone - anyone - yet being utterly alone.

He walked through the park, and through the thick trees, to come to his secluded lake. He looked around. By now it was dark, and he could barely make out his surroundings, yet seeing no glimpse of anything beyond tree trunks was calming.

The picnic blanket, which was forgotten, became useful again as Puck rolled it into a sleeping bag. Emotionally and physically exhausted, he closed his eyes, trying to ignore the grass scratching his face and crickets chirping near his feet.

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><p>Saturday morning Sam awakened, early. An uncomfortable bed plus loud neighbours equals no sleep. God knows how Stevie and Stacey managed any shuteye, but Sam was grateful they could dream of a situation less degrading. He carefully maneuvered out of bed, trying not to nudge his siblings.<p>

After changing he walked over to his mother, who was busy browsing the newspaper. She seemed indifferent about the move, which made it all the more obvious she was masked.

"Morning, honey." She didn't look up.

"Morning, Mom," he replied, with a smile she didn't see.

"I made you some breakfast." Her voice cracked as she passed him a bowl of tinned pears, swimming in juice.

"Thanks." Sam took a spoon from the sink and began to eat, noticing the lack of dirty dishes. "What did you have for breakfast?"

"Not that hungry," Mary shrugged. She looked up from her position, and the pain in her eyes silenced him. He could tell not being able to care for her children was tormenting her, but he remained silent, unable to find words, letting the scraping of his spoon fill the silence.

"You should walk somewhere," Mary said once he had finished. "I'll look after Steve and Stace. Being in this place makes you want to pull your hair out."

He stood, smiled, and walked to the door. He held his hand on the knob, contemplating whether or not to speak. "Mum?" he asked.

"What is it?"

"None of this... none of it's your fault."

"Okay, honey."

"Don't blame yourself for this, it-"

"Okay!" Mary locked her jaw in anger, not raising her voice. Her eyes widened slightly and she took a defeating breath, returning to her paper.

Sam sighed lowly, deciding not to push the subject any further. He slipped out the door, not seeing Mary shed a silent tear.

"But it _is_ my fault."

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><p>Outside the perimeter of the motel presented a new light for thought for Sam - his brain cleared along with the air. But the possibility was excessive, considering he had nowhere to go. He would have called someone and asked if they would hang out, but he had to sell his phone. So even if anyone tried to call him, he wouldn't receive it. But then again, he doubted anyone would have called him.<p>

He would have thought Puck ,might have sent him a text, but that chances of that were severely diminished thanks to his detachment the other night. It may have seemed justifiable at the time, but now it just seemed unfair. Puck had planned, organized, and executed the perfect date, and he just dismissed him without even a kiss. He wouldn't blame Puck if he resented him - he thought the idea of someone liking him in the first place was absurd anyway.

So he just walked, like he had been doing for a while now, just to exercise his brain. He walked, even paced until a crunch beneath his foot made him cringe. Bugs. Jumping at the sound, Sam looked back to find it was a phone.

Usually he would have kept walking, but one thing made him stop: it was Puck's phone. He crouched on the ground and gingerly touched what was left of the power button. With a gasp, Sam saw his face, distorted with the cracks of the screen. He could only make out the word 'calls', as all the rest were disguised by damage.

Sams pace quickened to a run. Puck had tried to call him - and now his phone was smashed on the sidewalk. Where was Puck? He dared to ask himself, remembering the position he was on that first Saturday. He halted as he ran past the park. He made a detour before he went to check Puck's house, a lingering utterance driving him.

_"This is where I go when I want to be alone. Not many people know it's here, so it's kind of special."_

Darting through a football game and into the trees, Sam hoped for his hunch to heed truth. Maybe Puck could have got away - from whatever he was running from - by fleeing somewhere that no one knew about. In hindsight it was plausible.

Thick branches scratched at his forearms and leaves clouded his vision, but he tore along until he broke into Puck's special place. And there, on his stomach, wrapped up snugly in a picnic blanket, was-

"Puck!"

Sam pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the beat of his heart revive. He ran over to Puck's sleeping figure, kneeling down to cup his cheek. He expected a response, but Puck only exhaled lightly. "Puck?" Sam tapped his shoulder, then again. He turned Puck on his side, then jumped back.

Blood. Crimson red, seeping through a cut in the blanket and glistening like morning dew on the grass. Puck's blood. He gargled, and Sam's hands shook slightly in fear.

"Puck?"

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><p>Ending with drama dundundun<p>

**Please read, comment, critique, and review. I will love you and give you marshmallows**


	8. Irony and Improvement

Well I happen to have another chapter here, just lying around, so I thought why not show the world. I hope we all remember Puck's face is bruised, because sometimes I forget and it makes things hard.

Anywho, just thought I'd say this is probably going to be the second-to-last chapter, and then I'll make a sequel after I concentrate on some other fictions because I think this has become my priority for the moment.

**Chapter Eight**

Sam tried to suppress a laugh - it wasn't the time or place for it. Despite the fact that mere days ago Puck was visiting him in hospital, and now the roles were reversed wasn't funny. Ironic, but not funny.

His hand lay in Puck's, though he didn't quite know if Puck knew it. He had thought of singing, to see if it would help like it had helped him, but Puck probably didn't have a demonic ex-boyfriend tormenting him. So he settled with lacing their fingers together, hoping the warmth of his digits was as soothing as a song.

He didn't know if he was helping Puck, but at least the human contact was at therapeutic for himself. He was much calmer now than when he had called the paramedics, or when watching them delicately manoeuvre Puck's unconscious body through the thick trees, or the ambulance ride to the hospital. Or while waiting as they assessed the damage. The only real relief came when he was greeted by a doctor, informing him that luckily no vital organs were damaged and that the infection of the wound was controlled. He could tell that the more distressing details were removed from the analysis, but he didn't really want to know what they were. The only information that had stuck was that Puck was now stitched, and going to be kept under surveillance for a day or two - to check that he was healing properly and everything.

Sam sat, tracing the knuckles of Puck's hand when he was alerted by a wordless noise. Darting his head up, he saw Puck try and open his eyes. He did so, then blinked harshly before crashing back down onto his pillow. Sam smiled as the grip on his hand tightened. He knew Puck wasn't in pain, as he had experienced the same thing, and remembered it quite clearly.

As much as you wouldn't think it, waking up in a hospital is actually just like the movies - the blurry surroundings that force you to close your eyes again and wait a little more to try and see things. Puck rose again, this time managing to lift himself upright.

Sam let go of his hand and smiled. "Awake?"

"Nrgghmmpphhh."

"I completely understand."

Puck lightly punched Sam's arm, eyes squinted, noticing the IV drip jammed in his elbow. "Ouch."

"Oh," Sam remembered, "You might not know this, but you're in hospital."

"That does explain a lot."

"You were stabbed."

Puck blinked, and stiffed at the news. "That would connect with the searing abdomen pain."

Sam looked at Puck, wondering if any morphine that was administered had crosswired his brain. "You're taking this all very lightly."

He shrugged dismissively. "I don't have the energy to care."

Sam sighed, biting his lip. "...I'm sorry."

Puck raised an eyebrow. "For what?"

Sam's lips quirked. "Ever since the idea of... us... it's been disaster after disaster. I-I don't like causing you all this pain." Puck stared at him before cocooning Sam's hand with both his own.

"Look," he said, demanding eye contact. "None of this is your fault. Not one bit. Not the stabbing, or being homeless-"

"What?" Sam's eyes widened. An intense feeling of vulnerability swept over him, and he yanked his hand loose. "How did you find out?"

"Woah, slow down. _I'm_ homeless. Dad came home and kicked the crap out of me again." Puck eyed him suspiciously. "I didn't say anything about you."

Sam's mouth fell open and filled with anger. "Your Dad _stabbed _you? Call the Police for God's sake that can't be-"

"_No_," Puck interrupted, "He just kicked the crap out of me. No stabbing." He ghosted a hand over his blanket, stopping at his stomach. "I don't know how this happened." He shook his head, furrowing his brow. "Stop avoiding the question... are you homeless?"

Sam huffed. "No. I live in a motel."

"But I picked you up at your house just yesterday..."

Sam flushed an embarrassed red. "I walked from the motel - technically it's not our house... not anymore."

Puck scratched his head, careful not to tangle his drip. "I guess my house isn't a home either - but why did you hide it?"

Paying careful attention to the creases in his palms, Sam muttered a few words, one of the only audible ones being "pride".

Puck scoffed. "Pride? You hid that from me because of pride?" Sam nodded meekly, sensing that if Puck had the energy he would have shown his derision with a more physical action. Instead, his voice filled with empathy. "We're dating."He looked away. "You shouldn't have to hide from me. I want you to tell me everything - even if it's bad, so then I can help."

Sam rejoined their hands, letting out a small laugh. "I don't think you're in a position to help right now, but thanks. I think _I_ should help you."

Puck's grip tightened. "And then get help in return." Sam was nodding so much his neck getting sore.

The two leaned towards each other, presumably for a kiss, but were interrupted by an elderly woman striding in the room.

"Nana-!" Puck gasped, pulling away from Sam and laying stiff.

The short woman walked to the empty side of the bed, silent, smoothing out the creases in the sheets. "Noah, what happened?" She asked rather stalely, but it didn't seem unnatural to Puck. He sat upright now, tight-lipped. "Noah," she warned, "What. Happened?"

"Got stabbed," he muttered softly, but apparently loud enough to be heard.

"_Stabbed_!?" Nana's reaction made Sam feel slightly guilty for his easy acceptance of the fact.

Puck cowered from the noise, putting his hands to his ears. "Nana-"

She shuddered, suppressing most of her rage. "Who?" Sam gulped - he had never seen an old person speak with such a quiet intensity.

"Dunno." He fingered his bedsheets, nervous under the stare of his Nana.

"And your face is bruised."

Puck looked up. "Dunno." Nana's eyes narrowed. "It was Pa. Not- not the stabbing, just the bruises. He kicked me out."

"Oh, Noah." Nana abandoned her anger to give Noah a hug, carefully avoiding his drip. Puck nestled in the crook of his Nana's arm, and she gripped him tight. Sam looked at the display of comforting affection with a smile. Even the scariest of old ladies could give repose. Nana Puckerman opened an eye, and stared at Sam unblinkingly until she stood straight again... Did he think out lou? She stalked over to him, and he began to cower as her shadow darkened his sight.

"Good evening," she said with unexpected cheerfulness, "I'm Noah's Nana, but you can call me Nana." She held out a wrinkled hand, and Sam was surprised to feel she had strength for her age. "From what I witnessed before, I assume you two are dating." Sam lowered his head and looked to Puck for instruction.

Puck nodded, dragging his tongue over his top lip. "Yeah," he breathed with caution, "We're dating."

She clapped her hands, causing a perplexed look from Puck. "Wonderful!" She placed a hand to her chest, letting her fingers drape as she noticed Puck's expression. "I'm sorry - was my reaction... unanticipated?"

"Well... yeah," Puck revealed, "It's the reason Pa kicked me out. I'm just surprised you're okay with it."

"It's a good thing, though, accepting us," Sam reassured, interjecting only to retreat back into their surroundings

"Okay then..." she turned to face Puck. "Noah, are you happy?"

Sam looked, waiting for an answer, which Puck returned easily. "Yeah," he said automatically. Puck was hurt, that was for sure, but there was no denying that the fleeting feeling of happiness was more constant now.

"And you, Sam," Nana turned, making Sam flinch. He hadn't expected to be dragged into this conversation. "Are you happy?"

Sam nodded fervently. "Of course."

Nana twirled. "If you're both happy, then I'm happy."

"Wow, dude," Sam whispered, turning to Puck's ear "Your grandma is awesome." Puck raised a smug eyebrow and nodded.

"That's Nana to you," she warned. "The hospital rang me as I was the only relative of yours they could reach, Noah. Before I came in here I had a talk with the Police, too." Puck's ears pricked up.

"Police?" he repeated.

"Police," she confirmed. "They came for the stab, but stayed for your bruises. They've ordered child services to give your home a routine check - just to see if you're in suitable care.

"I'm sorry about laying this all on you when you're in such a position, but when you leave here you can stay with me. For now you should get some rest."

Puck would have lied if he said the sudden influx of information hadn't made him feel lethargic. He nodded, stifling a yawn. "I'd tell you to ring me but I broke my phone," he told Sam.

Sam scratched his elbow. "Yeah, it's kind of how I found you. I sold mine for a cheaper one, anyway. I'll come visit tomorrow," he promised.

"Awesome," Puck grinned. "Bye, Nana."

"Bye, Noah," she gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Sam, would you like a ride home? Where do you live?"

"Oh, I live... in a motel," he sighed. If Bubba could take the news of being gay, homeless wasn't that much of a stretch.

"That's completely fine," she said, leading him out the door. "Just be mindful of the crowbar when you get in the front seat."

* * *

><p>Sam and Nana had only been gone for ten minutes when a Nurse strode into the room. She and Puck exchanged formalities as she replaced his drip. She told him with luck he'd be out on Monday, and she left with a smile. He was pretty sure she was snooping, and secretly enjoyed the relationship he shared with Sam. At least someone did.<p>

He flicked on the small tv bolted to the wall and sighed as the picture pixelated into static. He threw the remote down. TV was boring anyway - a distraction to his thoughts. Right now he couldn't quite stop a sequence of memories repeating themselves.

_"If you're both happy, then I'm happy."_

If he was happy, then Nana was happy. That thought alone calmed most of his anxiety regarding Sam. If people cared about him, then they would accept him and his decision. And if they didn't accept his decision, then they didn't care about him, and by extension _he_ didn't care about _them_. Steeling himself, Puck decided that was how it was going to be. A true badass wouldn't hide, and neither would he.

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><p>As much as Sam had prepared himself for Monday without Puck, walking to class alone still had a slight sting. Despite not being with him physically, his thoughts were clouded with his boyfriend. He was to be released from hospital in the afternoon, and Sam was going to visit him at his Nana's.<p>

He was so absorbed in his thoughts, he didn't see Santana slide into the seat next to him. She prodded the side of his head to achieve his attention. "Hey," she crossed a leg, "I hope your quest for love is going better than mine."

Sam couldn't suppress a grin, beside himself. "Official."

Santana raised an eyebrow, smirking with empathy "Official?"

"Secretly so." The two exchanged giggles before realizing they were in public and composed themselves. "But he's in hospital right now-"

"He was stabbed by an unknown attacker," Santana finished. Sam's eyebrows knitted.

"How do you know?"

"Most people do," she buffed her nails on her sleeve, "shit spreads in this school. But details don't." She raised her eyebrow in lieu of asking.

"Oh," Sam's shoulders slumped, "I don't have any details, not even Puck does. I'm just waiting to see him after school."

Santana nodded sympathetically, raising from her chair to return to her seat. "Well, here's hoping you can wait six hours."

"Thanks," Sam said as she left, glancing at the clock. "Half a period down, six and a half to go," he mumbled as he opened his history book.

* * *

><p>Sam entered Nana's house after she did, thanking her for the lift.<p>

"It's no worries," she said with a dismissive hand. "If I didn't Puck wouldn't have shut up about it."

"I can hear you, you know," Puck called from wherever he was. Sam laughed, following the sound as Nana returned to the kitchen. He poked his head through a doorway to see Puck lying on a couch. His bruises had shifted color from purple to a yellow, less noticeable but still rather conspicuous on his jaw and cheek.

"Hey," Puck said, kicking his feet to the ground to make room. "Nana made Matzo Ball soup," he gestured to the empty bowl on the small table beside him. "It's awesome. Want some?"

"No thanks," Sam said, taking a seat. Once his cheek was at a reasonable height, Puck wasted no time in repeatedly pecking his jaw.

"Nana will hate you if you don't try her food," Puck hinted as he came up for breath, delicately prodding his bruises.

"It's fine," Sam insisted, "I just came here to see you."

Puck smiled, making the corners of his eyes crinkle. "Well, I have been pretty lonely. Nana tried to stem the loneliness with food, but food can only help so much."

Sam giggled. He let Puck drawl about his day - as a gift for getting out of hospital. Apparently social services was scheduling a checkup for his house, and Nana said that he should have another day of bed rest before attempting anything again.

"It seems like nothing for a stab wound," Puck continued, "But apparently I was really lucky. Another inch deep or to the left and some serious organs would have been gone. But there's still an awesome scar, so I guess that makes up for it. Wanna see?" Puck asked, lifting up his shirt and fumbling with his bandages.

"No, no," Sam said hastily, edging away. He thought he had waited long enough, so he steered the topic of conversation to his preference. "I have something I want to ask you..." He looked for Puck's approval before continuing. "Tomorrow I have a counselling session with Miss Pillsbury, and she says I should sing in Glee club. I was wondering... if you wanted to help me?" Sam twisted his fingers together nervously.

Puck blinked, taking in Sam's body language. "You expect me to say no? Of course I'll help, you idiot."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "Thanks. I want you to be in the counselling as well, I talked to Miss Pillsbury and she said it was fine." Before Puck could say anything, Sam's fretfulness blurted more words. "It's just what you said about not hiding from each other. I want to show you who I was before, back in Kentucky... I hope it explains everything."

Puck tried to find comforting words, but only left his mouth open as he nodded. He wrapped his arms around Sam, pulling him closer until their bodies were pressed together. "Wanna start working on the song?" he questioned as they pulled apart.

"I'm so glad you asked," Sam said, biting back his excitement as Puck pulled his guitar from next to the sofa.


	9. The End of the Beginning

So, here we are, the final chapter. Isn't that depressing? No? Well, fine.

Anywho, before we begin, I just want to thank everyone. Every view, every review, every single person who has even glanced at this. Even if you hated its guts. I know my writing isn't the best, and room for improvement is obvious in my grammar and spelling and life but the fact people have actually read this is still amazing to me. So, as a special thank you, I have a little present at the end. It's best to think of this chapter as a short epilogue.

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><p>Sam was waiting, face scrunched in trepidation, for Mr. Schue to announce his name. Miss Pillsbury was standing next to him, the reason for her presence not yet known by most of the glee club. He turned to face Puck, who was sitting to his left. His bandages were so expertly strung around his waist their existence was disguised by even the tightest outfits. Luckily his bruises were clearing fast, appearing as just an off colour section of skin than evidence of abuse. Somehow, Sam feeling his boyfriend's arm draped over his shoulder wasn't enough, and he desired eye contact. Puck seemed to feel his lingering eyes, and met them with an encouraging smile.<p>

"Now, I believe Sam has a song for us..." Sam's eyes darted to Mr. Schue, who was looking at him with concern. "I believe you wanted to say something first, Emma...?" She blinked at the sudden attention, then stepped forward.

"Um, yes," she played with her nails as she spoke. "I have asked Sam to perform a song that he sees will help him get past any previous struggles in his life. Now, songs that express torment aren't always happy, so please don't be affronted by potential melancholy." She really wasn't helping with Sams nerves. "But I'm sure he'll perform greatly anyway." With her final inveigle, she sat in the seat next to Mr Schue, waiting for Sam to take the stage. Feeling the intense and confused stare of his peers, Sam knew it was time. Dragging Puck with him, he stood in the centre of the classroom as Puck fetched his guitar from behind the piano. For some reason, the floor gained very interesting qualities, and he didn't want to take his eyes off it. Finally, he felt something had to give and lifted his gaze to his audience. Puck slung his guitar over his shoulder, wincing only slightly as he adjusted the strap. Most of the glee club seemed to have curious interest, not believing ordinary Sam sported a backstory with trauma. Nonetheless, as Puck strummed the introduction of the song, he forfeited an explanation and waited for his cue.

_"__Can't wash it all away_

_Can't wish it all away_

_Can't cry it all away_

_Can't scratch it all away..."_

Puck sang as best he could. He didn't usually perform songs with such a mournful register - but he could stretch for Sam. His voice strained with all the empathetic emotion he was harbouring, trying to do justice to Sam's feelings, but there was no time to validate if he was singing appropriately, and Sam cut in with his lyrics.

"_Long lost words whisper slowly to me_

_Still can't find what keeps me here_

_When all this time I've been so hollow inside_

_I know you're still there..."_

Sam knew that his song choice was cryptic at best to everyone in the room - the only way it could make sense was if someone betokened an omniscient knowledge of Sam's past. And, thankfully, no one did. For now, for this short lived duet, he wanted to remember the feelings of security and insularity, because soon he would have to reveal most of his life, which he would do acquiescently.

"_Watching me, wanting me_

_I can feel you pull me down_

_Fearing you, loving you_

_I won't let you pull me down..."_

Sam liked this song, and right now it seemed to be serving him well. Belting out notes gave him a reason to close his eyes, allowing him short bursts of nothingness that were easier to look at than the crowd. It was also a reminder. He could still feel Sebastian as a tormenting wraith surviving in his memories, one that wouldn't go away. It would try to lead him back down the road of dismal self worth, repeating a cycle that was better left undone. But Sam knew now that he couldn't go through such acts again, and that he wouldn't let himself. Puck seemed to notice Sam becoming lost in thought, and took it upon himself to continue, bringing down the tempo with gentle guitar strums.

"_Lying beside you_

_Listening to you breathe_

_The light that flows inside of you_

_Burns inside of me..."_

The quiet yet distinct lyrics woke Sam, forcing him to continue with his lyrics, adding to the contrast in intensity.

"_Hunting you I can smell you alive_

_Your heart pounding in my head..."_

"_Cast me not away_

_Say you'll be with me_

_For I know_

_I cannot bear it all alone..."_

Puck sang again, their voices melting so where whos note ended and the others began was unidentifiable. Everyone, including Miss Pillsbury and Mr. Schuester, were surprised with the performance. Sam had never really presented himself as one for solos, preferring to sway behind Rachel and fit in, and Puck usually liked to set things on fire. This, to say the least, was different for both of them. Not better, or worse, just... different.

"_Watching me, wanting me_

_I can feel you pull me down_

_Fearing you, loving you_

_I won't let you pull me down..."_

Sam belted out the final notes, stopping abruptly, as planned. He took a fortifying breath and looked around the room to see nothing but his confused and slightly affronted friends. Opening his mouth, he tried to explain the song, but the emotional force it held over him forced silence. Instead, he darted out the door, not looking back. With a worried crease on his brow, Puck dropped his guitar and followed.

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><p>Puck found Sam in the deserted toilets, splashing water over his face. He seemed unhinged by his performance, despite having nailed it. Sam looked up, relaxing as he focused on Puck's face through the mirror.<p>

"Dude," Puck said, "Why'd you run?"

Sam breathed heavily. "I don't know." He ran a hand through his hair. "It was scary, I guess - putting all my past on display for everyone. Even if they didn't have a clue what the hell was going on."

Puck smiled, walking forward. "Well, either way you nailed it."

"We," Sam corrected, smiling as a pair of arms snaked around him. "Thanks for helping, by the way. I know it wasn't your usual style."

"'S'cool. Any louder and it would've hurt."

"Oh yeah," Sam remembered, twisting within the circle of Puck's arms. "How's the recovery going?"

"Pretty good, considering you've asked a million times," Puck grinned. "I'm all stitched up. Doctor says a couple months of laying low, but that's not how I roll."

"Didn't he say it's a miracle you didn't get Peritonitis?"

"Probably, I don't know."

Sam laughed. "How could you not know? You were there!"

Their conversation was stopped by the toilet door swinging open. They quickly separated, taking to separate basins.

"Relax, guys: it's just me." Kurt raised an eyebrow - they were acting so inconspicuous it was conspicuous. "Miss Pillsbury wants you for your counselling session now."

"Thanks, Kurt," Sam smiled, grabbing Puck's hand when they were once again alone.

"Ready?" Puck asked, gently squeezing the blonde's digits.

"Ready." The two entwined their fingers for as long as they could, dividing only when they walked out into the corridor.

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><p>"Sam, Puck," Miss Pillsbury said as the two took their seats in her office. "Welcome. I thought a good place to start would be explaining the song you just sang."<p>

Sam looked to Puck, who nodded, beckoning with a smile. "Um, sure, okay," he finally answered, shifting in his chair to a more comfortable position. This was going to take a lot of explaining.

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><p>It's not an epilogue, it's a prologue! Well it's both! ASDFGHJKL YAY i think<p>

I've got a sequel in mind, which will be chock full of flashbacks so everyone can get the lowdown on Sam's past with some degree of clarity. Who knows, maybe some flashbacks may include Puck, and we might find out some things about his life as well?

It will also be a songfic, and it will be based on the songs of my favourite band, which were foreshadowed in this chapter. That reminds me, Understanding and Haunted were the two songs used here, mashed up, both by Evanescence.

If anyone has any questions or anything regarding my fiction please message me - anon or not I love to hear from you!

And last but certainly not least:

**Thank you for reading**


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